


Bits and Bobs

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Multi, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of things that have sat too long in my 'one day' folder since 2012 and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Love the One You Hold

**Author's Note:**

> (Mostly FIC with end notes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one occured the first time Danielle and liam broke up and he shaved his head and I had a LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT CHIA PET HAIR and HEART BROKEN LIAM but then I found out Brit actually lived with Ruth and... Canon FIC will always be the hardest.

Louis was the first one he told when it was over.

Maybe that should have been something he picked up on - who he told. Why he felt so at ease telling Louis over anyone else - family, friend, band mate.

Maybe if he had of realised then just what it meant, what it would mean for everything that happened after.

Maybe he might have shut his mouth.

 

. . .

When it happens, when Dani walks out and he just sits there on the sofa watching her go, he knows she’s not going to come back in and say it was all a mistake. They’ve said everything they needed to say. Argued, begged - pleaded even to try and make things right but there has to come a time when you let it go, even Liam knows that. So he watches her leave and he hears her shut the door and it’s so quiet. So quiet that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. 

The first night he spends mostly trying to keep it together while telling his dog about how she won’t be seeing her mum anymore. It's when Brit turns his head to the side, staring at Liam with those deep brown eyes that he breaks down on the floor, Brit licking the tears from his face. He counts it as a blessing that Brit was too much for Dani to take home to her parents. Liam’s glad for Brit’s company now. Hugs her close and doesn’t care a fig when her dog slobber mixes with the tears that run down his cheeks so he can’t tell where Brit’s saliva begins and his face ends.

That’s not even his lowest point.

When he wakes up the next morning, wrapped around the dog for warmth and with every muscle and joint aching, he feels empty, hollow. The house sounds the same - only now his footsteps and Brit’s nails clacking on the wooden floor seem to echo louder than before. It’s not unusual for it to be this quiet. He and Dani’s schedules never really met up - one of her many reasons as to why it wasn’t working anymore. He hates that it’s so silent so he flicks on the iHome she had installed and quickly off again because it’s on that playlist she made for cleaning of all things and he just can _not_ listen to that bloody Ellie Goulding song without thinking of watching Dani in one of his old shirts reaching up to clean off the shelves in the living room where his awards are kept. 

He may or may not fall to the floor and cry again when he finds one of her bra’s hidden under a sofa cushion from where she took it off the last time they were home together. They’d not even had sex that night (maybe that should have been a sign?) just curled up together and watched a movie that she’d borrowed from Eleanor or one of her girlfriends. Was that the last time they'd been together here? They’d spent the night in before he headed off to the VMA’s. . . did they even have sex then? It was telling he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d touched like that, felt like that (when did anyone ever know it was going to be the _last_ time?) Another fact she’d thrown in his face and Liam crumbles under the weight of all that went wrong. He pitches the cushion across the room and most certainly does _not_ lay down with the bra over his face, breathing in her perfume and thinking about how much he liked taking the damn things off her. 

He slips in and out of sleep most of the day, mostly getting up when Watson whines or scratches at the door and then again when it’s dark to feed him. He doesn’t worry about himself. He isn’t sure if the gnawing ache in his stomach is from lack of nourishment or just hurt. He finds his phone where he threw it on the bed the night before on one random trip to the loo, the battery still has a tiny amount of life in it and the number of missed texts and calls isn’t as bad as it could be. Contrary to popular belief, he and the other boys in the band don’t actually hang out all that often, and keep in touch even less in their down time. Yes, they love each other and love spending time together but when they _can_ get some time to themselves, they grab hold of it with both hands. 

So it’s a surprise to see a text from Louis. It’s nothing really, just a note to touch base and before they have to get back to the grind and that would be fine, if the message stopped there. But no, Liam scrolls down and there’s just one sentence that has him throwing his phone across the room and rolling under the covers of his duvet and hating himself even more because it still _smells_ of her here.

_el’s coming down later in the week, defo time for catchup with you and dani, need to swap holiday snaps! x_

Liam puts any hope of moving on out of his head for now, he’ll damn well wallow if he wants to.

. . .

Avoidance isn’t exactly the easiest thing when you’re a world famous popstar. There’s the fans constantly checking on your whereabouts, your well being - your relationship status. Then there’s management and promos and radio interviews and promoting the new album and being woken up at ridiculous o’clock for film clip shoots and for meetings and more meetings and then more on top of that. It’s surprising really, that he gets left alone for as long as he does (anything over a day is an extended amount of time to be honest), but there’s the iTunes gig coming up and sorting out little things on the album release and the Radio One thing, too. 

He keeps himself to himself when he arrives at the studios to sort out iTunes details. He gives a polite nod to the lads in the band as he enters the room, sitting on the chair to Zayn’s left where he almost always finds himself sitting in meetings like these. If anyone notices that he’s quiet - no one says anything. He nods in the right places, makes noises if he disagrees that one of the others pick up on and usually voice his opinion pretty much word for word - sometimes it’s scary how in tune the five of them can be. Then it’s over and Harry’s off to lunch with Nick or doing _something_ with him and ignoring the way Louis is so obviously ignoring him. Niall’s got a mate in town and Zayn’s doing something with Perrie so he makes his way out of the building last which is fine because by the time he gets out there, most of the fans are gone and apart from a quick wave, he makes his way out on the road towards home.

Well, what once was home and now is just an empty space that he floats around in. Haunts almost as much as the memories he’d just started creating there haunt him.

He continues on the way he has done since Danielle walked out the front door. He feeds Brit and plays fetch with her in the back garden because she needs the exercise and he hates the thought of her being cooped up all day just because _he’s_ feeling morose. He doesn’t watch tv, doesn’t listen to any music - just hates himself and the silence and feels awful that he can’t enjoy the life he has anymore because of what it’s taken away at the same time. He runs through all of her arguments on why they just couldn’t be a forever like he’d started thinking (from the moment they’d met, if he was honest). He runs through his rebuttals in turn and still can’t find the loopholes that would bring them back together. He’s got nothing to give to Danielle that he didn’t that night, or when they fought about it in Florida and flew back early for work. Or the times before that when he was home but not because of near living in the studio or even before that when he was on tour and it just went on and _on_. 

Niall texts him about how excited he is for Round House and Zayn sends him a pic from a family dinner that he and Perrie are attending - which is big really because Zayn’s been having all sorts of squabbles with his father and this is mending bridges - well that’s what Zayn hopes. Louis is next, another ask about a double date and Liam ignores it and ignores everything because by not telling them or anyone really - he can keep it all together for a little longer. 

Liam forces a smile on his face the morning of the iTunes gig and gets ready early, goes for a jog at an hour when no fan is going to be on the road and works himself hard - but not _too_ hard because of the day he has ahead. It’s fairly early in the peace that he gets a text from one of the birds who helps run the official twitter account that he hasn’t been on in days and the fans are getting slightly nervy. Liam is aware of what his silence on twitter will mean to those that stalk his mentions and tweets so he fires off a quick little message about how excited he is for the concert that night and shuts it off again, not bothering to check anything because he just _knows_ what he’ll see.

When he gets to rehearsals, the other boys are already there and he’s sure they’ll notice something is off _now_ because he’s never the last. First or third even but _never_ last to arrive - Liam does like punctuality but he just can’t find it in himself to care about arriving in a timely fashion at the moment. Not when there’s photos of her still scattered around the house that he gets choked up looking at before turning the frame over. Not when there’s still her cereal in the cupboard that he has to eat because he hasn’t gone out for groceries since he left for the VMA’s and they’d done that together. Not when there’s glimpses of her _facesoundsmell_ at every turn and he can’t breathe with how her presence is everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

But he’s okay. Really.

He chats to Zayn and Niall for a bit, not avoiding his best mate, but he can feel Louis staring at him a few times because he and Harry are still sort of awkward around each other and Louis sticks closer to Liam now because of it. Liam ties to get into the buzz of it all that the band obviously are all feeling. He's trying. But there's only so much he can do now at sound check with the other lads mucking about without breaking down completely He’s building up for the concert tonight and it feels like if he wastes any of it now - he’ll have to work extra hard at blocking out how his heart doesn’t beat right anymore and how there’s this new heaviness inside his chest and his throat that no amount of swallowing or rubbing at his skin will shake. 

 

The concert is good - not great with how many bloody microphone issues they have but the crowd is amazing and he's playing the ruddy _iTunes Festival_ which is something he's listened to at one time or another and Ed was just here so, it’s big. Another of those notches of wow factors Liam can add to his belt and Liam gets completely carried away by it all. He get's even more excited by the reviews and views that the new tune Louis convinced him to release on the day of the concert gets on Youtube and for a while - for a good few moments - Liam forgets. It’s nice really, the forgetting. Until they load up the video to watch at Lou’s place on his giant screen and well - the girls all did cameo’s didn’t they, and he only remembers when it’s too late. He gets up after a few seconds, once the ringing in his ears has settled and the thudding of his heart has lessened to just painful twinges in his chest. 

He makes excuses for the loo, disappearing down the hall and tries _so hard_ not to lose it, just staring at himself in the mirror at the lines around his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes that makeup had to work harder to get rid of earlier in the day. Once he can gaze at himself without finding the image blurry from blink backed tears, he splashes his face with cold water and makes his way back out. The boys are watching the thing again so he heads for Lou’s kitchen with the excuse of getting the boys all another round of whatever they’re drinking and he grabs one for himself - not because drinking is going to make this better but just so he has something to do with his hands.

The night ends not long after - the boys either making their ways home (Harry leaves after a text and from the daggers Louis sends, he’s guessing it was either Nick or Nick’s friends related). Niall turns on the Playstation and Liam pretends to fall asleep in the corner of the sofa, the soothing sounds of Niall’s colourful curses and Louis’ jeers and Zayn’s chuckles at them both eventually allowing him to fall into slumber. When he wakes the next morning, the same sounds start fading in and there’s the smell of bacon and eggs - maybe even sausages so obviously Zayn is cooking. When Liam rouses himself from the sofa and makes his way into the kitchen it’s to find Zayn at the cooker, Niall waving his hands about and _still_ going on about the Premier League and Louis is on his phone. Liam heads to the fridge and takes out the juice and mimes to Lou about where the glasses are kept and it’s as he’s saying “Yeah, babe. Completely understand, love,” that Liam figures out who he’s on the phone with. 

It gets kind of harder to keep a neutral/normal Liam face after that, but he tries anyway.

The juice tastes sour and the eggs are bland when Zayn plates them up but he tries to eat them anyway because he doesn’t usually dismiss a feed as good as this. The great thing is having Niall here and sat to his left so anything Liam doesn’t eat fast enough - Niall makes quick work of. He tries to join in the conversation - but mostly he sits quiet and pushes the food around his plate, eventually just swapping with Nialler so he can finish it off. It’s not unusual, they all tend to feed Niall leftovers for him to consume like the human garbage disposal he can be at times. But Louis is staring at him with his head tilted to the side with a look that Liam knows that it means Louis is trying to puzzle something out and Liam doesn’t need to be figured out right now. So he gets up rather abruptly - knocking the juice he never really drank to the floor and blurts out something about having to take Brit back to his parents before they leave for Germany the next day. He near runs out the door, pretending not to hear the way Louis calls his name like he knows something is wrong.

He’s rather lucky really, when he gets to his parents it’s the time of day that everyone is out or working. He sets Brit up with all her belongings, leaves a quick note for his mum and reminds Ruth to walk her and leaves. He can still hear the whines that Charlie was making from behind the door when he gets in his car so he turns the stereo up, Neyo blasting through the speakers, He ends up shutting it off once he hits the motorway because every song has a lyric that reminds him of moments shared in this car with Danielle and how he’d sing to her. 

Silence eats away at him with just the motor humming for company and he starts driving faster without meaning to, only realising what he’s doing when he glances down and notices just how far over the speed limit he is. He slows it down and hates that there is no happy medium because with speeding up he can't escape the memories that are flashing behind his eyes like some awful movie and slowing down really is just delaying the inevitable of going home. Going home without her. Without anyone. Just Liam and his thoughts and god - he just can’t do that.

He gets home eventually - and its dark and he doesn’t bother putting the lights on, just trundles down the hall and avoids his own bed for the spare. It’s a little dusty and smells a little sweet like whatever it is the cleaner uses but Liam is just so _exhausted_ from his day of avoidance that he just closes his eyes and sleeps.

Only to wake up in a cold sweat a few hours later and then he _can’t_ find a good position for his legs, can’t relax again because his brain is buzzing. He wonders if he should call Danielle, see how she is - but then he remembers that they agreed on a clean break. No tweets, no texts, no calls - nothing for ten days just to give them space. And by them she meant her and not being harassed by _his_ fans about _their_ relationship.

He gives up around half two in the morning, goes to his room and pulls on some sweats and wonders just how far he’ll have to run today to quiet the voices in his head.

. . .

Germany is lovely. 

He meets so many fans and does interview after interview and it’s good, a distraction. He smiles and he laughs and he plays up a bit with Louis who has apparently decided it’s his _job_ to keep Liam entertained between engagements. It’s nice really, when he has Louis being playful and silly when he's supposed to be promoting the album and the new single and himself really. It’s nice to forget that he has shit back in England that he’ll have to face when he gets back. He can’t pretend forever and Louis above everyone will start noticing that something’s different because Danielle and Eleanor are friends and well - girls talk a lot more than boys do.

It’s right about when they’re settled on the plane - everyone with headphones in or talking quietly that Louis finally gets Liam alone. Sometimes it's awful to have your best friend as your manager.Liam had originally picked the lone seat, the one where Paul or Marco would sit beside whoever ended up on their own but just as Liam is about to relax - Louis pops up and with a quick smile and wink to Marco, Paul's got Marco’s ear to bend for the flight and Liam has company.

Liam licks his lips and smiles as normally as he can, then picks up the inflight magazine and starts flicking through - hoping feigning interest in something as banal as wine tasting in the Clare Valley will distract Louis.

It doesn’t.

They’re barely off the ground when Louis is tapping his feet, singing something under his breath and pretty much being the menace he can be until he knocks into Liam’s arm, muttering a quick apology. 

“‘s’alright,” Liam says with a quick quirk of his lips that he hopes imitates a smile. He starts shifting the pages over until he can find what story it was he was pretending to be interested in but stops when Louis puts his hand on top of Liam’s.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says and Liam feels his whole body tense because of the fact Louis noticed and the fact Louis is asking because as much as he can be the clown in the group - he tends to care the most.

Sometimes too much.

“‘m fine. Just tired is all,” Liam says and bites at the inside of his cheek to stop from flinching when Louis squeezes Li’s wrist and lays his head on Liam’s shoulder. 

He yawns exaggeratedly, limbs flailing about as much as they can in the small space they’re in and tilts his head up so Liam can see blue eyes under fluttering dark lashes. “Me too,” he frowns for a moment, then moves again so he can lift Liam’s arm over his shoulders and snuggles in against Liam’s chest. “Good time for a kip, Li,” he says with another yawn and he’s so warm against Liam’s side and honestly - he hadn’t realised how much he’d gone without the extra touches they all gave each other by shutting himself off. It shouldn’t mean this much, being cuddled into, but it does. It makes his heart swell and the lump rise in his throat that he’d practically rid himself of, it’s all he can do not to start sobbing so he just closes his eyes tight, leans his head on Lou’s and concentrates on just feeling wanted instead.

 

 

xXx

 

 

[ TIMELINE - 20th itunes, 22 in germany (lou and liam already touchy ish?) 26 chatty man recording, 27th CHIA PET HAIR, 29th ruth tweets about liam being fine, 4th october daybreak, 6th radio one, 7th promo stuff, 10th international promo, 11 paris, 12 ireland late late show, 13th at home smelly pasta house, 14th more promo, 16 radio promo around the countryside, 18th brit chews a shoe (also brit lives at his parents.) so louis version of helping liam out of his breakup is for them to get it on a little and pretty much they do stuff like kiss and this probably ends in a mutual hand job or dry hump and they wake up the next day all sticky and louis is puttering around Liam’s kitchen making breakfast with groceries liam knows he didn’t have. they sort of laugh the night before off and louis says something about seeing that smile again and it’s okay because they have Chatty man tonight and it’ll be fine.

until the girlfriend bit. and liam goes home to his now empty house and he pines and cries and whatever and he might text louis who might text back. they get progressively more handsy or something leading up to the interview with the PHONE and them being DICKS or whatever (I pressed the red button)

and they’re in the hotel for the night and louis is kissing hima nd tugging on his clothes and laughing about their shenanigans and probably going to blow liam when it all sort of.. changes.

 

“You don’t, you don’t have to-” Liam manages to get out around a moan because Louis is _mouthing_ over where Liam is already hard, wetting the cotton of his pants obscenely.

Louis quirks that eyebrow of his high into his fallen fringe and says nothing. 

“I’m not. I’m doing okay now, you know?” Liam says and he doesn’t even know why these words are pouring out of him because they aren’t what he wants to say but telling Louis that he _likes_ him more than just for . . . whatever this friends with extra benefits thing has become, isn’t coming out right.

Louis sits back on his heels and frowns and Liam hates that look on his face, Louis is happiness and laughter not this confused verging on hurt look that he has painted on his features now.

“I mean,” Liam takes a deep breath and lets it go because now Louis isn’t _on_ his dick he’s hoping somehow he’ll fix this. “It’s just I am better, I feel better and I know you and Harry had that whatever it was,” and Louis is standing then and Liam’s stomach is twisting and not in that good way because Louis looks angry.

Furious.

Louis is wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and his whole body is just so tense it makes him look taller than Liam right now. “Don’t,” he says shaking his head. “Don’t bring _him_ into this.”

“But its the same isn’t it? What you and he- “

“I said _don’t_ , Liam.” and Louis’ eyes flash white fire and Liam struggles with words because this isn’t how he wanted this to go. Not that he really pictured ever having to have this conversation because they’d all known about Lou and Harry and how it all went to shit and now he’s doing the same thing with Louis but the shoe feels like it’s on the other foot. And he didn’t want this, doesn’t want to hurt Louis and he is and this is the farthest thing from what he wanted by talking to Louis tonight.

 

[and more innuendo about this being about friends with benefits and louis walks out and goes to dublin wiht niall and liam hurts because he’s fucked this up and eleanor and danielle are out on the town in london and liam is yet again - all alone..

of course they fix it and they’ll be fluffy bunnies with sex. THE END


	2. 1 New Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another LILO FIC but an AU of the pining and heart ache kind (is there anything else?) basically Louis and liam being Internet friends that never went any further than that because Louis got a gf and liam ended up all alone...

1 New Message

He unlocked the door, reaching around to flick the hall light on and shook out his umbrella before propping it up against the small space between the one pot plant he managed to keep alive indoors and the wall. It fell -- like it always did -- but Liam paid it no mind, just toed off his sneakers and let his bookbag fall to the floor, sighed dejectedly at it before picking the thing up again and putting it back on his shoulder. He hung his keys on the little wooden rack he made with his dad one weekend when he was ten and headed into the living room, pausing long enough to turn on his record player (another hand-me-down from his father) and set the needle. A familiar warm voice filled the quiet of his flat as he sung out a hello to Archimedes, passing by his pet turtle’s tank. Liam liked to imagine that his little stumped foot jabbing awkwardly back and forth was a wave in return so he continued on into the kitchen, finally placing his bag down on the table top. He shrugged out of his coat, fitting it over the top of the chair, filling the kettle before putting it on. 

He stared at the few breakfast dishes he hadn’t been able to get done in the morning, he’d woken up late and had to virtually burn his tongue off in his efforts to grab a bite to eat of his instant porridge before heading out the door. In the end he shook off the deep desire to just _clean_ and flipped open his laptop’s lid, pressing the ancient thing on -- knowing full well he should be able to have a bath and make that cup of tea before the damn thing loaded and he could get the internet open. So Liam pottered about, getting the gas in the oven going , popped in a frozen pie and started peeling two potatos so he could try his hand again at perfecting the perfect mash -- without the lumps this time. By the time he had that done, the main window was open on his computer, asking for his password which he typed in and then let the thing get started on its average ten minutes to get to the home screen. The spuds were on low, the pie was in the oven and there really wasn’t much else to do so he got in the bath, scrubbed away a days worth of air conditioning and grime, letting his toes thaw out a little from the cold and wet walking home. 

It was still early, but the dark clouds that filled the sky made five o’clock feel a lot later, so he threw on some pants and a set of his most worn -- yet comfortable pyjama bottoms and warm socks before going back to the kitchen. With his stereo up so loud and John singing about ‘giving peace a chance’ Liam set to work smashing potatoes into smaller, near non-existant pieces after clicking into his web browser and stepping away to let his three favourite sites open. Liam stared out the back window at the incredible view of red brick wall -- this time made all the more artistic looking by the rain streaming down the window pane stopping every now and then to add milk or a bit of butter to the mix and by the end, was actually quite happy with the consistency he'd made. It was so good, he had a little giggle to himself before getting his phone out of his bag and taking a photo to share online. He knows his mother will get a little kick out of it when she checks facebook (which she does so often, his father has started teasing her about putting more dedication into practicing the art of Facebook stalking than turning up at their local parish). 

He plates everything up, grabbing the bottle of worcestershire sauce and giving it a few good shakes onto his pie before sitting it to the side of his laptop and quickly runs through his emails. There’s news from Zayn -- a flyer to some art nouveau modernist installation _thing_ that he’s practically begging Liam to attend with him and Danielle’s got a dance gig that she’s got free tickets for if he wants to come and Paul’s got a new roster attached for the club where Liam works. A couple of clicks later there’s news from his sisters and a million forwards of weird things his mum finds interesting (including every article on gay marriage and adoption that the woman can find, she still hasn’t given up hope on getting a grandchild out of him -- even though he has two sisters that could fill that space more easily than he at the moment). He filters through the junk, finds a few from bands that are playing in town soon and puts alerts in his phone for when tickets go on sale and when they are actually playing so he won’t forget. 

With his email done, he checks his twitter online and it’s a few messages from mates he hasn’t seen since his school days and a couple more from the gaming lads he plays COD with online -- working out a schedule for the next campaign. Then it’s a few ezines and Pitchfork for new tunes and laughter at a few ridiculous reviews and before he knows it, he’s eaten his dinner and only now remembers at ten to twelve that he didn’t feed Archimedes and he never actually made a cuppa when he put the kettle on. He sorts out both of those and turns the lights off, tidying up the little mess around his flat getting ready to end his night. He sets up an old episode of Friends to watch -- one from the fifth series because it’s his favourite -- and does the dishes with Joey and Chandler arguing in the background. He takes his laptop to his bedroom, using the light of the video to guide his way and turns in for the night, watching one more episode before his eyes start feeling heavy enough to close and sleep might come easy. He turns it off, and is about to close the browser down when he notices a new message highlighted in the tabs for his Facebook page which he completely forgot to check earlier. 

He avoids the site most of the time because it just reminds him of what he doesn’t have. Friends that are married or getting married or have kids or are about to have kids. Then there’s the holiday snaps from all over the world and his mate Aiden who went on a bloody reality tv program and ended up with a recording contract. He’s happy for him -- bloody over the moon at how well he’s done for himself but jealous all the same. Liam was meant to be there that year, meant to audition and see if his love of singing and performing in the little caf down the road were meant to be more. But his kidney played up and he ended up hospital bound and that was the end of that. 

So if every update from his mate makes him want to slit his own wrist or punch Aiden’s lights out there’s nothing _too_ awful about that is there?

He clicks on the window and finds a note from his mum on his quality mash and a few ribbing marks from the lads on how domesticated he is and how he’ll make a great wife someday -- wankers. Then there’s a friend request, which is intriguing really because the last time Liam had one of those it was over a year ago. That was just Aiden in a sock account so he could still stay in touch with his mates back home without worrying about being hacked (just another reason to love hate the bastard but he still hit the accept button anyway). Curiosity peaked, he clicks on the icon and has to blink twice before he fully comprehends what he’s looking at.  
Louis Tomlinson wants to be friends.

Louis fucking Tomlinson.

Liam’s stomach swoops and he gets these flashes of a past he thought he’d drowned out ten years before. Endless instant message conversations that went on into the wee hours of the night. Photos sent back and forth of random shit and then the nervous impatience of dial up internet and waiting to see a picture load that shouldn’t have mattered to the way he felt about Louis. It didn’t in a way, but did in all the others because it only added to what he thought he knew upon seeing bright blue eyes and swishy caramel hair and a smile so bright and wide it was blinding through the screen alone. Then texts that ended in x’s and o’s and arrangements to meet, to see each other in something other than first contact photos and then the crushing pain of losing someone you’ve never even properly known.

Friends with Louis Tomlinson?

Liam wasn’t sure he ever had been.

It might not even be the same boy, or man. They’d both grown up a lot since lads at the age of fifteen and seventeen, lads who spent more time talking to each other than talking to people who they could actually touch in the flesh. There could be plenty of Louis Tomlinson’s out there. Liam might have actually looked once and found far too many to choose from -- on one of those nights when he hated being so alone and had consumed far too much ice cream and chocolate and was acting a little like a lovelorn girl (not that he’d admit that to anyone). The picture didn’t help at all -- a bloody cup of tea wasn’t exactly the best guide but Louis had always liked his Yorkshire Tea the best so, maybe?

It was late, he sighed but it turned into a yawn. Probably best to just shut the screen down and worry about it in the morning.

Ten years of locking up his heart and completely distancing himself from anyone who looked like they might want to get close, was enough to have him second guessing whether to accept or ignore. 

Things would look different tomorrow, yet it wasn’t the type of tomorrow Liam was looking forward to at all.


	3. Marigold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The zouis MPREG from 2013 that could have been.. But alas 2015 happened with Zayn and well. I just won't be writing him anymore. Canon but with that AU twist because MPREG
> 
>  **summary:** So Zayn got pregnant and it should be a big thing and it is for some but not so much Zayn who takes everything in his stride. Louis however, is another thing entirely.

Their reactions at finding out Zayn was pregnant was probably indicative of their entire relationship on a whole.

Zayn sat there, nodded and asked how far along he was.

Louis. Well. Louis’ eyes bulged and the “We’re fucking _what?_ ” might have been a tad too loud - but the fainting was probably a little dramatic, even by Louis standards.

So yes, when Zayn and Louis of incredibly popular boyband One Direction found out they were indeed expecting an addition to their lives in the next twenty six weeks (give or take), least to say it was news of the major variety.

. . 15 . .

They’d left the doctors in relative silence. Louis drove because Zayn was too lost in his thoughts to complain - it was _his_ car and they both were a bit persnickety when it came to who they let behind the wheel - even each other. They didn’t talk on the drive home. Didn’t even have the radio on or their phones synced up. Just the road and the traffic on the odd occasion making it through the windows. 

Pregnant. 

It was such a lot to take in. It was good to have an answer. Being sick - well, morning sick - for the past three weeks was finally understandable. The fact that he’d also gotten a bit tubby around the middle was good to know had nothing to do with the crap they’d eaten on tour and how lazy he generally was after they got home. It was great and all. Fantastic to have answers, but he was also _pregnant_.

“Coming?” Louis asked and Zayn jumped a little at the sound. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d stopped the car. Hadn’t heard Louis buzz them into the underground carpark or anything. He nodded his answer, clutching the stack of paperwork the nurse had given them and got out, walking around the side to the front where he waited for Louis to lock the car and join him. They always walked together into the building when they travelled in the same vehicle. Force of habit to have safety in numbers and then also because Lou liked holding hands and Zayn didn’t like to begrudge Lou of many things - anything really. 

But Louis wasn’t there. Louis was already walking toward the lift and well. That hurt.

Zayn should have been expecting it really. Once the doctor had given them the results and talked about when they could book them in for a scan - Louis’d said nothing. He’d mumbled thanks after Zayn had listened to everything the doctor had had to say. Zayn had taken the vitamins and scripts for the few extra things he’d need being a male pregnancy and all and he’d asked a few questions about things he hadn’t quite understood. There was loads more to ask - so many things but the news he was - _they_ \- were having a baby was enough to make his head spin so if Louis was quiet then Zayn understood why.

He didn’t really understand Louis was pulling away, though. Why, even when they were in the lift up to their floor, that Louis didn’t even stand beside Zayn. It made him feel cold and alone and he was already a mess of emotions just thinking about the fact he was _having a fucking baby_ so he couldn’t afford to figure out what was going on in Louis mind. It was probably fairly similar to Zayn's anyway. Well - apart from what it was going to do to his body, and was he actually considering doing this, and he really hoped he wouldn’t get as big as his Aunt did because she was a house, and he really didn’t have the hips for a full term ten pound baby or anything. 

He’d have to talk to Jay and see if there were any male pregnancies on her side and just how heavy Louis was when he was born.

“Lou?” Zayn asked as they stepped out of the lift and onto their floor. Louis didn’t answer but he did slow his walk down so they were side by side. “How heavy were you when you were born?”

Louis didn’t say anything, so Zayn figured he was thinking about it - because he was ridiculous about his weight _always_. It wasn’t really a surprise that he’d take his time with this. 

“See, I wasn’t that big - six or seven pound maybe? Closer to seven?”

Louis still didn’t say anything even though there were now outside the door, Louis sliding the key in.

“My sisters were average, too. I guess the twins would have been tiny. Like, well small. What about Lottie? Do you remember-”

“I don’t know, alright? Why does it even matter?” Louis said tersely, pushing the door open and not holding it as Zayn came in after.

“Doesn’t really. I was just. It’s a baby, Lou. A _baby_.” Zayn said shaking his head with a small smile as he followed Louis into the living room.

“I never expected. Didn’t even know. I mean, me? And you?” 

“I think I got that from the doctor, Zayn,” 

Zayn chuckled as Louis threw the keys down on the coffee table - a bad move considering they were both forever losing them around the house and the coffee table always was covered in some sort of crap. 

“But, you know, like. Did you think?” he stopped and sighed, placing his hand over his stomach in the general area of where the doctor had said the baby would be. 

“Size of a bloody lemon. Wow,” he muttered mostly to himself, the tiny smile he had before widening as a sense of awe melted his bones and had his heart beating faster. 

They sat there together in silence, Zayn focused on the rush of thoughts about this _baby_ and what it would look like and just _wow_ in general. He didn’t notice how quiet Louis was until Louis stood up, clearing his throat a little.

“I'm. I think I might have a bath,” he wasn’t looking at Zayn, eyes focused down the hall and he looked pale even under the tan he’d worked on when they’d finished up the US leg of the tour in Miami. 

“Okay, babe. You feeling alright?” Zayn asked, reaching out to touch Louis arm but he’d already pulled away, walking out of the room.

“Fine.”

“Right.” Zayn said watching him go, even though it made something twinge in his chest. Made his smile fall that little bit and had him feeling awkward about where he was rubbing his hand in slow circles over his stomach.

Zayn stared at where his hand was, lifting his shirt up to get a better look. He wasn’t showing much, just a bump - small like Ed’s song - but significant. This unexpected amazing thing Zayn was still in shock about. Which was probably what Louis was facing, too. His reactions to all of this could be put down to shock. The baby. Their baby.

It was a lot for anyone to get their head around.

. . .

 

“Can we not?” Louis asked, lips soft against Zayn neck where he’d snuggled in as soon as they’d fallen into bed together later that night.

Zayn rubbed his thumb over Louis skin where their hands were joined around Zayn's waist, lying low over his stomach. He was more than well on his way to falling asleep, it’d been a long day _without_ the news on what exactly was making him vomit every morning for the first three hours of his day, the interviews the band had handled earlier had been a bore. 

“Can we not what?” He asked through a yawn, lips smacking.

He felt Louis lick over his lips, a little over Zayn's skin, too, because of how close he was. Zayn grumbled but he didn’t really mind. It wasn’t as if Louis hadn’t licked every inch of his skin at some point in time.

“Tell anyone. About. You know,” he said, voice still soft and Zayn’s brows furrowed.

Sure, it wasn’t your everyday occurrence. Male pregnancies weren’t _that_ uncommon anymore and the public in general had come a long way with same sex couples procreating in the last few years but still. They weren’t exactly a low key, pub band what with five platinum albums behind them and ridiculous amounts of awards that lined several of their walls. They took turns at keeping the shiny things. Though Zayn and Louis had accumulated a few more what with living together and all). 

“And how exactly are we not going to tell anyone? It’s not going to be hard to miss soon enough,” Zayn whispered back. His stomach felt all clenchy and wrong because this was Louis asking him to keep another secret and hadn’t they done that enough?

He felt Louis shrug behind him, felt his lips leave Zayn’s skin and Louis roll onto his back, taking the ever present warmth of his body with him.

“I don’t know. I’m just. I’m not ready for this,”

Zayn stayed where he was because he wasn’t into arguing with Louis and this felt like something they were building toward. 

“Ready for what?” he asked, voice small and a lot less sure than he had been moments before when Louis had been kissing his neck, when Louis had been wrapped around him. When Louis didn’t feel a thousand miles away even though Zayn could reach his hand back and find him if he wanted.

“For _this_. For any of this.” 

Zayn did roll over then, dark eyes searching out Louis’ form with only the moonlight from outside filtered through their sheer blinds for guidance. Louis had his hands up under his head, eyes searching the ceiling for answers - probably. His brow was pinched and Zayn wanted to reach out and smooth the lines away with his fingers but instead they just clamped around his belly protectively. By instinct, almost. 

“You need to be clearer, Lou, because right now you’re not making a load of sense.”

“I just,” Louis breathed out in almost a sigh, “We’ve finally become old news and now this? I mean, the Sun is going to have a field day not to mention what management are going to say - we’ve only _just_ gotten past all that shit in mliddle America about how wholesome we are. This is just. We’re finally in this good place and now this?” Louis had rolled over on his side halfway through his rant and was just _looking_ at Zayn like by that alone what he’d just said would make more sense.

And it did. But it also made something inside Zayn want to shut down and flee because he’d not been the one to push that they come out as a couple together. He’d been the one that didn’t care if it did or didn’t become another “thing” for those outside the circle of friends and family that knew to judge the band on. He didn’t care because he knew his own feelings and that he loved Lou and Lou loved him and that was all that mattered. Yet it was different for Louis. Louis with his hangups on sexuality in the beginning that had nearly broken them with how it all went tits up with Harry, and then again when El called it a day and wanted her own life back and Louis was alone. It had been a tough year after that. Louis became the bands one “troubled” member with them all having to take six months off while Louis sorted himself out at rehab and with therapy that eventually had them all coming back stronger than ever. It also had Louis coming “out” and the band standing firm and Zayn finding that he was actually more in love than proud of Louis for handling who he really was. 

That was six years past, and not that they’d actually commented to the public on the status of their “relationship” outside the band, but he and Louis were actually a something. They didn’t make a great show of their relationship in the public eye. Sure, they’d kissed on stage and in pubs and clubs and had photos and those animated gif sets plastered on every surface of the internet possible but they never made a big deal out of it. They were asked about it in interviews just after he and Louis had moved in together and Zayn’s “He’s my Louis,” and Louis’ returned, “he’s my Zayn,” could probably have been made into something. It could have, if Harry hadn’t piped up with “and he’s my Niall,” whilst kissing Niall’s neck and Liam’s added, “he’s my Harry,” while Niall patted Liam’s knee and announced, “I’m anyone’s!” which got a laugh. It was blown off as more of the bands “incestuous” side - which actually was more true than anything else considering what Harry and Louis had had together and what Zayn had entertained in thoughts about Harry himself for a while. Not long after that, it was just accepted that he and Louis were a “something” and the question about it dulled to near nothing when they’d celebrated two then three and now five years together. 

This though, this was different.

“Who are we hiding this from then? From the band or our families or the public? Because I’m only happy about one of those options,” Zayn said, “If I’m happy about any of them at all.”

“I don’t know! I just. This is really big, babe. This is. This is the rest of our lives and we share so much with everyone already. Can’t we have this? Just us, for now?” Louis reached out between them, his fingertips brushing the back of Zayn’s hand. Even in the low light, Zayn could see how wide Louis’ eyes were. Could see the mix of fear and worry hidden amongst the blue.

Zayn swallowed before he answered, didn’t really know what he wanted to say anyway because Louis was right. This was new. This was big - bigger than anything they’d had to face before. He took a deep breath and let Louis’ fingers entangle with his own. 

“Just us,”

Louis nodded, and slid closer, their hands joined between them as he pressed his forehead to Zayn’s, the tips of their noses touching. “Just us.”

 

. . 16 . .

The “Just us,” only lasted a week.

It wasn’t Zayn’s fault that Niall came around and brought a bag of weed that was too good to pass up. Well, too good until he’d asked Zayn if he wanted and Zayn had shaken his head no and then - because it was _them_ \- asked if he minded if Niall did. Zayn did and that was strange but Niall just put the baggie away and sat on the sofa and for a while Zayn thought Niall had just pushed it out of mind. They were both alike in that way, when things were weird or different they never questioned, just moved on because why worry over the little things? Concern was made for those life changing moments, not Zayn skipping out on smoking a bowl and not indulging Niall the same even though he’d obviously brought it over not only to share but to use himself.

It was quiet with the two of them for an hour or so. They played FIFA for a bit and Zayn - as usual - kicked Niall’s arse. When it was getting close to three in the afternoon, he might also have shook his head to Niall’s offer of a beer. From his and Louis’ fridge mind, but it was the same in all their homes, whatever is mine is yours and yours is mine. Unless it came to Louis’ tea and then no, it wasn’t. Niall hadn’t batted an eye when Zayn had turned him down for the second time that day. Just got went to the kitchen and came back with his drink and it was only later when Zayn was trying not to look _too_ smug at his latest goal that Niall surprised him with three words.

“Are you pregnant?”

Zayn’s controller slipped from his hands.

He was lost between asking “why”, and “how” and “did Louis tell you?” when Niall continued with a nod to the kitchen behind them.

“Looks like a fucking alien don’t it?” he grinned and Zayn felt all the blood rush from his face and this was - well this was actually all Louis’ fault.

Louis’d been the one to stick the scan on the fridge earlier that morning. Zayn hadn’t said a word - he’d been overcome with emotion just from seeing Louis _look_ at the screen let alone grab at the paper as soon as the nurse had handed it over. He hadn’t let it go either - that or Zayn’s hand not since they’d walked in together and not during or after and only once they’d had to break apart to get into the car. He’d never seen Louis look so happy - and Zayn was the one who was pregnant and supposedly “glowing.” When they’d got home and Louis had stuck the photo on the fridge with four little love heart magnets, Zayn had simply hooked his chin over Louis shoulder, wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and _breathed_. 

They hadn’t said anymore about what was happening between them. Zayn’s morning sickness had dulled down to a light queasiness until about eleven in the morning. His clothes were a _bit_ tighter, but they were on a break for a few weeks before they started in on recording for album six so he could get away with wearing soft pants that tied up and loose shirts. Most were raided from Louis’ side of the wardrobe and they’d so often wore each others clothes, no one batted an eyelid. They could have kept on like this for a little while. Just had Louis and Zayn and the little bump that Zayn couldn’t keep his hand from resting on most days as something special that only Zayn and Louis shared. Zayn was mostly happy keeping it just between them. Happy to watch Louis slowly coming around to the idea with the way his eyes would focus on Zayn’s stomach when he came out of the shower or how Zayn caught him scrolling through a baby names website when he thought Zayn wasn’t looking. 

The fact that Louis was smiling without the tense lines around his eyes was enough for Zayn not to push anything else. Though it did make lying to his mother about just why he sounded “so happy” on the phone when she rang a little easier. He hated lying to anyone but his mother was another thing entirely. And it could be different now, they could tell people or something because Niall knew. And it was all Louis’ fault.

He’d gone without saying anything to Niall’s question for so long that Niall just grinned, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, pulling him in for sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. 

“I didn’t even know you two had it in you! The first band baby!” he crowed and Zayn blushed, pushing Niall’s face away from his own.

“And what would you call Lux and Lucy then?” he asked, still grinning as Niall drew him back in, this time with just a press of his lips to Zayn’s temple, his hold still tight on Zayn’s shoulders.

“They aren’t proper band babies though are they? I mean, Lux is sort of - she has been around since the beginning and Lucy is gorgeous and an utter terror when we’re on tour but - she’s Jon’s little girl. This is one of _us_ having a baby and not even one, it’s the both of you,”

Zayn ducked his head and turned, pressing his face into Niall’s neck. It was one thing for him to be excited and scared about what was going on and another to watch Louis fall in love with the idea but hearing this from Niall? Feel the instant excitement and joy at the new life that Zayn went to bed each night worrying about was something else entirely. 

“Thanks,” Zayn whispered, knowing Niall could hear and understand a lot more than saying the one word aloud meant.

They were silent for a moment, just Niall brushing his hand up and down Zayn’s arm and Zayn tapping soft over his belly. It was nice, nice to just sit and be and have Niall not act weird or be anything other than supportive. Like Zayn knew he would be, like he _told_ Louis the boys would be.

“Are you crying on me, mate?”

“Hormones.”

“Right, better get used to those then,” Niall answered back, just hugging Zayn that little bit harder. “When are you two going to announce it, or is it too soon or something. You know, safe?”

Zayn shrugged, “I’m sixteen weeks. So it’s fine but there’s always something that could go wrong. Generally, second trimester is when you stop worrying. We only found out last week so I guess we’re just, we’re letting it set in?”

 

Niall hummed and Zayn wiped at his nose because every time he got the slightest bit emotional lately his nose ran and as much as Niall loved him, he probably wouldn’t appreciate Zayn using him like a tissue. 

“So who knows then?”

“Not counting me and Lou and the doctors? Um, you?”

Niall pulled back a little, shock written on his face as his blue eyes zoned in on Zayn’s. “You’re kidding aren’t ya? Not even your mums or nothing? Not even _Jay?_ ”

Zayn shook his head, a boat load of feelings rushed to the surface with Niall’s questioning. He’d tried to talk to Louis about it a few days before and had got shut down. _“Just a little longer, just a few more weeks. Can’t we have this for a little while as just ours?”_ It made sense, it really did. To keep it for themselves and keep it quiet. Especially while Louis got his head wrapped around the fact that soon they’d be having to convert his self titled “junk room” into a nursery. Or that their social life - which hadn’t been huge for a long time what with Zayn being mostly a homebody - would reduce even further. They’d be tired all the time and then there was the fact of what they’d do on tour when the time came and would the band be able or even want to take time off. Lately, Zayn had been thinking it might be nice to be home for the first year when all the big things happened like walking and talking. Zayn had all these questions about their lives and what it would become when two became three but he couldn’t ask them yet. Couldn’t put even more on Louis’ plate when just the fact alone that there was going to be a definite change in their lives in a little over four months was enough to have Louis skittish.

“Does,” Niall started, pulling Zayn back in who was decidedly _not_ crying, no matter how much liquid was welling up in his eyes and making tracks down his cheek bones and now onto Niall’s shirt. “Does he not want it then, the baby?”

Zayn didn’t say anything. He hadn’t. They hadn’t actually talked like that. Zayn had just assumed they would. Yeah, they’d discussed having kids _one_ day because they both wanted to be dad’s but this wasn’t exactly planned. They were still young, just in their thirties so there was plenty of time. But Zayn wanted this, from the very moment his doctor questioned how exhausted he’d been doing little to nothing and the little bit of weight he’d put on around his middle, on top of his sickness in the morning. He’d had an inkling then and after the bloodwork when the Doctor had announced it he’d not even entertained the idea of giving it up. Of taking away the one thing that was a perfect amount of the love he and Louis shared. 

Maybe he should have. Maybe that was what all this waiting was for.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Zayn repeated, turning even further into Niall’s arms which he just tightened, holding Zayn close and murmuring something into the soft mess of his hair that he hadn’t bothered to style unless they were leaving the house at the moment. And Louis hadn’t exactly let him do that either. Louis was always finding excuses that he could go to the store alone or that they could watch a movie on their giant screen at home if they wanted. They could even stream it online and be all illegal like, like pirates, and then he’d talk with a horrible accent until Zayn threw a pillow at him and threatened to not let him sleep in their bed that night. Was Louis more than just worried about the baby and Zayn? Was he worried more about not wanting this in his life and how to even bring it up with Zayn?

“I hate cryin’” he said eventually, still with his face on Niall’s chest - albeit a very wet one now.

Niall’s fingertips continued the run they’d started a while ago through Zayn’s hair and down his back. “I know you do, good thing you weren’t then isn’t it. Just a bit of manly eye leakage and such,” 

Zayn laughed and it got caught in his throat, snorting out his nose a little which he really hoped didn’t make a snotty mess to add to Niall’s shirt. “You really are the best, Nialler,”

He felt Niall shrug, “I didn’t get to be the fan favourite for nothing you know,”

Zayn reached up to pinch Niall’s nipple in a move that was so Louis he sometimes wondered where he started and where Louis began with their behaviour on occasion.

“You were always mine.”

. . .

 

The thing was, he didn’t tell Louis that Niall knew. Niall left the house later that night when Louis came in from a day out with Liam doing whatever it was those two got up to when they had time off together. All the gumption Zayn had built up with Niall during the afternoon faded away the minute he saw Louis’ smile. The smile that was different. Not one laced with concern and nearly always half the wattage that it had been before. He looked _so_ happy, truly happy that Zayn couldn’t - he couldn’t detract from that. If he was a little colder to Louis while Louis waxed on about his busy day, it wasn't really Louis' fault. What had started out as he and Liam catching up over coffee, turned into a jaunt out to Wolverhampton because Liam’s dad rang and asked them over. Then they’d gone that bit further because “we were that close, might as well, right?” and stayed for dinner at the new place Jay and Dan had bought the previous month that Lou hadn’t seen because they were just winding up their latest tour. 

“Did you tell her then?” Zayn asked because it was Lou’s mum and he never, ever kept secrets from her so it was only logical that he opened up - even if Liam was there and Zayn wasn’t.

Louis’ face scrunched up, bottle of beer paused halfway to his mouth as he answered, “No? Didn’t even think about it actually.”

And that was enough. Zayn could blame it on hormones - because he heard Jon whine about them enough when his wife was pregnant with Lucy, and Harry’s sister last year had him on the phone _all_ the time - but this felt different. This was Zayn proper pissed off.

“You didn’t think about it?” he asked, voice at an even level which was a surprise to Zayn’s ears considering how loud his blood was rushing in them. His hands were shaking so he clasped them in his lap. 

Louis shrugged, continued to drink his beer and Zayn would have thought Louis honestly didn’t realise what he just said if it weren’t for the red tips to his ears and the pink high on his cheeks.

“It didn’t come up. We were talking about renovations and she wants to put a pool in for the girls and -”

“She asked you for money again didn’t she. Fuck, Louis!” Zayn interrupted, still not raising his voice but his annoyance shone through, just the same.

Louis froze and Zayn knew he shouldn’t have said that. Not on top of everything because Louis’ mum, and Louis’ mum and Louis’ money were things they didn't talk about. They fought about it once - or a hundred times after their relationship became solid - and Zayn knew more about where Louis’ money went than he ever did as just a bandmate and friend. Zayn knew he was stepping over a boundary both of them agreed to but, he couldn’t help it.

“Don’t.”

The way Louis said the word, the way he wasn’t even _looking_ at Zayn now was enough to pull the rug out on the fire Zayn felt building up. He didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want to fight about that or the fact that even though he thought Louis was coming around to the idea of them and a baby, he couldn’t even tell his own _mother_. It didn’t matter that they’d decided to sit on this a bit. This was Louis and this was Louis and his mum and they shared everything so he thought, Zayn stupidly entertained the idea for a second that he would have just told her but no. No.

Of course not.

“I’m going to bed,” Zayn said, already turning toward the stairs and not waiting for anything in reply from Louis.

He didn’t get it anyway.

He lay in their bed for ages after. He was ridiculously tired but they didn’t - they didn’t go to bed on an argument. It was something Zayn took from his parents and even if they were screaming at each other in the kitchen until four in the morning, his parents _never_ slept something that needed to be said, needed to be worked out, a solution to be found. And he’d done the same with Louis. Sometimes it hurt or sometimes Louis slept on the sofa and Zayn on the floor but they’d never gone to their bed angry at each other. Until now. Zayn hated it. Hated the way his gut was churning and he wondered if the baby could feel that? If this little person who never asked to be created was lying wherever it was inside Zayn’s body that he kept it safe and wondering why Zayn was so tense. Why he couldn’t stop rolling from one side of the bed to the other. Why he kept smacking his pillow around like it would help him rest. 

Zayn knew what would. But there was no way he was going back out there to talk to Lou. Not when his heart was sore and his head hurt and his stomach was so tight because he had to ask Louis this question. The most important question that they’d failed to even discuss and he really wasn’t sure he was prepared for the answer. Especially if it wasn’t the same as what Zayn hoped it would be. Even if Louis didn’t want this. Didn’t want the two of them - because they were a package now, they were a set no matter what - then Zayn would do this on his own. Sure, it’d hurt leaving the band and even more, leaving Louis, but everything changed at the doctors when he heard the baby’s heart beat. Everything slid into place for Zayn the moment he saw the outline of their - his - baby’s face on the monitor. 

Zayn had someone else to worry about now and it wasn’t just him and Louis anymore. It was this baby first and then Zayn because if he didn’t look after himself - he wouldn’t be able to look after the baby. It was just so frustrating because he loved Louis. Loved him with everything he never knew he had. It was a bigger feeling than when he was with Perrie - because he really thought they were something, got engaged even, before that turned south. It was bigger than any relationship he had before and now it had come to this and Zayn had no idea where he stood with Louis anymore.

He lay there and he thought about all he needed to get off his chest. All these things he had to work out with Louis and the night stretched on and on. He only noticed that he’d fallen asleep when he woke up in their bed, all alone.

It broke something inside Zayn. Something just clicked and he blinked at the ceiling, hand reaching out to find nothing but cold sheets on either side. Louis could have come in and gone out again - it was a distinct possibility. But Lou loved his sleep almost as much as Zayn and Harry combined so it probably wasn’t that. No, this was Lou staying away, keeping Zayn at arms distance and if this was what he wanted, Zayn would definitely help him with that. 

. . .

Zayn headed to Niall’s when he checked the house and found no sign of Louis inside or out. He waited an hour, then two and when it was nearing five at night he packed a bag and grabbed his keys. 

Niall said nothing when Zayn showed up on his doorstep, bag over one shoulder and his hand on his lower back. It hurt something fierce after walking all the bloody steps up to Niall’s flat because his lift _had_ to be broken. 

Niall just let him in and put FIFA on and if it weren’t for the bottle of water he grabbed for Zayn alongside the lager for himself - it would be like any other time that Zayn had visited. Niall let Zayn slide down the sofa to put his head in Niall’s lap while they watched a movie later that night after eating Thai, because Pizza had been giving Zayn heartburn lately. He asked Zayn about his phone and Zayn just shook his head. He’d left it at their house, didn’t need it for a while. Didn’t want to be found unless he had to be, just for a bit. 

“Louis?” Niall asked, and Zayn shook his head again, Niall paused his combing through Zayns hair for a moment, long enough for Zayn to notice then with a short sigh, continued. Zayn let the attention lull him to sleep, his arm wrapped over his belly where the only part of Louis he had right now rested. Niall didn’t poke or prod or ask any further questions, he just made Zayn feel cared for and that was all he really needed. 

Niall woke him up later when the room was dark and the DVD player was off - some show with a catch up on the week's matches playing much softer than the telly was before Zayn drifted off. He let Niall help him up, followed him down the hall and past the spare room to Niall’s bedroom and he didn’t stop him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t all slept together before, back in the beginning when it was one room and five boys or at the bungalow or later when they’d just needed the safety of each other - another heart beating to the rhythm of their own to fall asleep to. So he didn’t think anything of it when he stripped down to his pants and the shirt that was probably stolen from Harry’s bag last tour because it _still_ fit and Zayn’s own had sort of been too tight lately. He didn’t think about anything but sleep as Niall slid into bed too, facing each other as they both settled in for the night, Niall pulled the duvet up to their shoulders. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niall finally asked when Zayn had closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing, tried to fall asleep but his head was too full to have that actually happen.

Zayn’s fingers splayed over his stomach, feeling his body shift as he took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “Not really?”

Niall didn’t say anything and Zayn appreciated it. Appreciated the fact that their friendship was one Zayn knew he could lean on, be a tiny bit selfish with because it was the way it had always been. Niall the laid back calm one that matched Zayn in every sense of the word except for every light hearted moment of near sunshine that Niall exuded, Zayn had a habit of finding the dark opposite. It wasn’t as if he was depressed or sad or anything, he just - slipped into himself sometimes and would forget that not everyone did that. He’d live inside his head until Louis or Niall would pull him out and that was just the way it worked. 

“Okay. You gonna stay for a while then?” Niall asked through a yawn which had Zayn doing the same.

“For a bit,” Zayn said, “got an appointment on Friday - they want to do bloodwork or summat. It’s all a little different seeing as I’m a bloke and all,” 

“Right. You want me to come with?” 

Zayn shrugged, “If you want?”

Niall smiled and Zayn felt his hand being covered by Niall’s where it lay on the mattress between them. For a moment he remembered another hand - much smaller than this - that had done the same things a few nights before. This hand, however, felt like it was pulling Zayn in, not pushing them further apart.

“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

. . .

Louis called around the next morning. 

Zayn avoided him, hiding in Niall’s bedroom with the door open just a fraction so he could hear what was going on down the hall. He heard Louis ask if Zayn was there. Heard Niall say that he was. Heard Louis ask if he could come in and Niall say it probably wasn’t the best time. He heard silence and then there was something whispered and then the door closed.

Louis had walked away again and it felt like he’d shut more than just the door to Niall’s flat by closing it. 

He climbed back into Niall’s bed after that. Hid under the covers with his hand over his belly and rubbed circles into his skin. They’d be okay. They’d be alright. There were plenty of families that were sole parent. Harry’s mum had basically brought Harry up like that for a bit. And Jay had for the most part - when she wasn’t between partners. Plenty of people did it. Zayn closed his eyes and willed more sleep to come because he didn’t want to have to go and deal with anything today. He was probably overreacting, probably should have gone out and talked with Louis. Probably should never have left their home but there was something different with this - fight or argument or disagreement without words that he and Louis were currently involved in. 

It wasn’t just a case of them splitting up the furnishings if anything really happened between them both. Not now. Not with this baby in the mix. Not with this child that Zayn found himself talking to more often than not in quiet whispers in his mind. Not with this little person that was growing inside him - and for some strange reason he imagined he could feel it happening. Feel the shift and turn and flex of this child that was his as it grew in the small space it occupied that day by day Zayn was starting to notice on the outside as well. He wasn’t that big to start with but just with the small amount of room this baby had taken up so far - he was giving Louis’ pot belly a run for his money.

“Did you hear any of that?” Niall asked as the bed dipped to one side, his sudden appearance jarring Zayn from his thoughts.

“A little.”

There was a long sigh, “I did the right thing didn’t I? I mean, you told me you don’t want to talk about anything and you didn’t want to talk about him at all last night so,”

“It’s fine. It’s just. It’s hard, I s’pose,” Zayn said, still curled up under the covers, duvet over his head.

“Do you want me to call anyone? Like, Danny or Ant or your mum or someone? I mean, you can stay as long as you need, mate, but-”

“No,” Zayn said quickly, because as much as he loved Danny and Ant like the brothers they basically were, he couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine dumping this on them - or the fact that they’d be in Louis’ face the moment Zayn said a word - and Zayn couldn’t have that. Not when he hadn’t properly spoken to Louis himself. And as for his mother? No. That wasn’t happening just yet. His parents were fine about Louis and him to a certain extent but this? This news, this _grandchild_ of theirs might not get the reception it deserved. Not yet, not with things so up and the air with its parents. Zayn knew he had to talk with Louis. Knew that Louis just showing up on Niall’s doorstep was a start but. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Can I. Can we have one more day, yeah?” he asked, pulling the duvet down so only his eyes were on show. Niall looked at him with sad eyes, a downturn to his lips that made Zayn’s heart hurt because he hated seeing Niall like this, knowing that it was his fault by proxy for causing this. 

Niall didn’t have to turn Louis away. Niall didn’t have to choose sides - because this was what it was without anyone even knowing, wasn’t it? Niall chose to look after Zayn and his baby and well. That meant a lot. 

“Sure, but -” he sighed and his frown deepened, “You are gonna talk to him, right? He came over after all.”

Zayn felt the knot in his gut twist, “I am. Yeah. Just-”

“One more day.” Niall said, and Zayn nodded. 

. . .

But there wasn’t one more day. 

Niall left early the next morning - he was catching up with some of the lads from a new band he’d been working with. As much as he tried to convince Zayn to come with, that he wouldn’t be a problem, Zayn just shooed Niall out of his own house and went back to being best friends with Niall’s sofa. It was minutes after Niall had left that Zayn heard the door unlock, didn’t bother to get up because Niall had probably forgotten his wallet or his phone - he was forever leaving them behind at venues or hotels. 

“What did you forget this time?” Zayn called out, didn’t even turn from where he was lying on the sofa, eyes focused on the news because well, nothing else was on. 

“You.”

Zayn’s head snapped around to the sound of a voice that definitely wasn’t Niall’s and was met by a very tired looking Louis.

He was standing there with his stupid hair all soft and falling over his eyes that were dragged down by bags that were so dark and purple it was almost as if he’d been punched. He was biting at his bottom lip, skin chapped and torn that even Zayn could see it from the short distance away how bad they were. Louis had his arms wrapped around his body and he looked, he looked nervous and it set Zayn’s stomach on edge. 

“How’d you - Did Niall let you in?”

Louis shook his head, and held up the little gold key on what Zayn knew from the stupidly large metal Z was his own fob and spare keys set that he’d left at the house the day he walked away before Louis could. But Louis was here again and maybe that meant something?

“You left. You left _everything_.”

Zayn nodded, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong when he told Niall he wanted a little more time. A night wasn’t enough. Not for the way Louis looked and all that they hadn’t properly discussed.

“You _left._ ” 

“I woke up and you weren’t. You didn’t even come to bed that night.” Zayn said, it was the only real defence he had with Louis looking like he did and seeming so upset by Zayns disappearance. “I only did what you were going to,”

Louis’ eyes opened wide as he stepped back, staggered almost by what Zayn accused him of, “You think I was going to leave?”

Zayn shrugged his shoulders, glad that he had the back of the sofa hiding most of his body from Louis’ stare. 

“Why? Why would you even think that?”

Zayn didn’t know where to start. The fact that Louis had been so closed off since they found out or how he had only seemed to have the smallest amount of interest when they got their first scan or how he hadn’t _thought about_ telling his mum. Or talked about the baby at all. Not once. Not even when Zayn had asked him specific things but then again, Zayn hadn’t exactly asked the one question he should have either. And it fell from his lips then like an accusation instead.

“Do you even want this?”

Louis blinked and his mouth opened and Zayn waited. Waited for the no or the yes or anything and then he waited some more. 

“We’re just so. We’re so young and this. The band-”

“No,” Zayn said turning further so he could get a better look at Louis, “You don’t get to bring them into it. This is _us_.”

Louis knuckles turned white on his arms, fingers pinching into the skin below the black tee that Zayn knew was his but Louis stole it every chance he could. It warmed Zayn the second he recognised the logo on the front when he’d turned and seen Louis but now. Now Louis was welcome to it. 

“I’m not. We’re not-”

“Ready?” Zayn interrupted, “Of course we’re not. But that doesn’t matter. Do you want this?” Zayn asked again, finding some squirreled away stock of bravery to ask what he needed to because this was more than them. This was this little person growing inside Zayn that would either get to be a part of Louis’ life properly or in ways that Zayn didn’t really want to think about. Not with what he had with Louis. Not with what he _wanted_ to have with Louis.

“Can’t we talk about it? We haven’t even talked about it,” Louis said, stepping forward and Zayn felt himself lean into the arm of the sofa.

“‘It’? It’s a baby, Louis. _Our_ baby,”

The word echoed around them and Louis just _stood_ there. Zayn felt like his whole world was coming unstuck. His arm wrapped protectively around his belly like he had done since they found out what was going on. Like his hand lying there would protect this little person from the fact that its other parent couldn’t even acknowledge their existence.

“Say it. Say the word.” Zayn continued his attack because this was what it was now. Zayn fighting Louis just for recognition of what was happening between them. What was going to continue happening no matter what Louis’ answer was.

Silence remained and all Zayn could hear was his heart pounding in his ears and the morning sickness feeling tickling the back of his throat and his eyes starting to sting from tears unshed. He wouldn’t do that yet. Crying would come later - hormones or not - just not now. Not in front of Louis.

“You can’t-” Zayn started softly, it wasn’t even worth finishing his train of thought. Not now that his whole world was crumbling around him.

“Zayn,” Louis said, shaking his head and oh, this hurt more than Zayn thought it could. Seeing the confusion filter into something like a decision that Zayn knew he couldn’t be a part of set on Louis face was enough. 

“That’s fine. It’s fine.” Zayn said, staring into Louis’ eyes. He looked hard, tried to see what it was that he loved so much about the boy in front of him that he’d grown up with. Grown into love with. The sad part was, with Louis’ indecision, with his lack of words to say that he wanted this too, Zayn couldn’t see those parts of Louis at all anymore. It felt like his insides were breaking, shattering apart and he needed Louis gone so he could do this alone. Just him and the little person that would be a reminder of what they had, what they obviously shared no longer.

“You need to leave,’ he said, voice low, near cracking with emotion because it wasn’t an answer exactly, but it was what Louis didn’t say that mattered. 

_“Zayn_ ,” Louis said again and this time it was pained, matched the hurt in his eyes and it almost felt like an apology. An apology Zayn and this baby didn’t want, or need.

“Go.” Zayn said, turning back around to look at the tv, though he’d have no idea what was going on on the screen. He just couldn’t look at Louis. Not now.

“I’m sorry.” 

Zayn didn’t turn around. He didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want anything from Louis at all. Not anymore.

He held it together until he heard Louis soft shuffling steps on the hardwood floor. He only blinked once when he heard the sound of his keys being dropped on the side table near the front door. He flinched a little with the snick of the door being pulled closed. He dragged himself up to Niall’s bed, shuffling deep under the covers and wrapping himself up - wrapping _them_ up as tight as possible. Only then, completely cut off from everything outside soft cotton and down pillows and a scent that was comfort and home for now did Zayn finally let go.

It was where Niall found him later that night. It was where - yet again - Niall held him close and most assuredly did let him cry this time. 

 

. . 17 . .

Zayn told the others the weekend after he and Niall went to the doctors. The same appointment that Zayn didn’t look for Louis when they entered the building. Didn’t hope that maybe things would be different with a few days to sleep on what had been said. He didn’t hope that Louis would be there, arms open wide and a smile on his face and words that would fix everything about them that was broken. 

Niall just patted his leg when they sat down in the waiting room. Ruffled Zayn’s hair until Zayn slapped at his wrist and Niall just smirked, resting his hands in his lap.

Liam was the first to come around when Niall sent the other two a text. Harry was off doing something with Grimmy - an auction they wanted to attend with what was probably going to become another addition to their increasingly strange, eclectic home. It was fine - Zayn sort of had an idea where he could expect the conversation to go with him. Harry loved babies, was godfather to quite a few of his friends kids and had doted on Jon’s little girl so much she’d called him “da da” for two months of the tour when Jon and his wife had been sick and Harry’d taken over most of the babysitting duties in the bands downtime. Louis had thought it hilarious and had tweeted a few blurbs and pics that set the rumor mills running and had Grimmy answering far too many invasive questions to Showbot and listeners ringing in alike. Maybe that should have been a sign? Louis couldn’t possibly be ready for a child when he couldn’t even take something as obvious as Harry’s discomfort in what Lucy was calling him into consideration. Everything became a joke.

Even Zayn in the end.

It was expected that Liam would already know what was going on. He and Louis were as thick as thieves. Of course Louis would have talked to Liam - he was Louis’ equivalent of Niall for Zayn. Or Harry for Zayn for that matter - it just depended on what the need was. This was just something Zayn needed Niall initially for. Something this personal, something this _zaynandlouis_ was too big for a Harry heart to heart. Not with all the baggage that still existed between Harry and Louis - they’d talked a lot of their past out but something big like this? Zayn never even thought about laying all of _that_ on Harry’s shoulders. Harry was happy with Grimmy - truly was - but there were still times when they were tired and it was early in the morning and they were sitting around the table for breakfast while the tour bus rumbled on that Zayn saw it. Louis would crowd Harry’s space, near lying on top of him and snuggling in for the warmth that Harry exuded at all times, but was near perfect all sleep rumpled and just out of bed. Zayn would tease them about it - whining about being the boyfriend and missing out on all the cuddles - but it was a _louisharry_ thing and it had been since the start so Zayn never really got jealous about it. Never let it worry him, much. But there was still entanglement. He saw Harry’s eyes, too. The small smile, his dimple just on show each and every time Louis did it. 

Zayn put it out of his head. Liam was here and Harry had texted to say he was about ten minutes away and, well. This was far more important than what had gone sour between Louis and Harry. This was far more important than worrying about the tiny piece of Louis he knew he’d never own. Zayn and Grimmy had discussed it in detail when they’d somehow ended up alone in a garden at a party with a couple of bottles of vodka and a cold night where no one came to find them and they near froze because someone had locked the back door and there wasn’t a bloody side gate to get out. Morning had been a long time coming and they’d discussed a _lot_ before passing out snuggled up as close as they could next to each other hoping the buzz and warmth from the vodka would last until dawn. 

Liam had been his friend first in the way that they’d met each other before being introduced into the world of reality TV and the lives they’d lead for over ten years now. Liam and Zayn were more than mates and he really hoped that even with the Louis connection to all of this - he wouldn’t lose either one of his bandmates - just like he hadn’t lost Niall.

Niall made them all a cuppa and they sat around Niall’s small circular table, Niall filling the silence with discussion on some instrument he thought they could use on a song that he and Liam had been working on for album six. Zayn mostly zoned out - the two of them could get quite technical and Zayn just - he couldn’t follow that now. There was too much going on in his head and he just wanted to get it out there. Tell the most important people in his life and start moving on from there. He still wasn’t sure about his family. Not yet. And Jay and Louis’ family? Well that was another thing altogether.

Harry came in a few minutes earlier than predicted - probably knew a short cut or three that shaved the timing off - or was driving one of the more sportier cars in his collection. He took off his jacket, lambs wool collar sticking to his curls and pulling them out to the side. Harry’s hair was getting ridiculously long now - he looked more like he belonged in a goth band than the pop-rock genre they finally felt some sense of balance in. Harry ran his fingers through the mop on top of his head, swishing them to the side only to have them fall back mostly in his face again as he took the seat beside Zayn after pressing a kiss to Niall’s forehead.

“So, what’s this all about then?” Harry said after sipping his tea and grabbing at one of the apples from the centre bowl. “Where’s Lou?”

Liam made a strange sound and Niall looked at the table as if it held the answers and Zayn could feel the moment Harry’s eyes fixed on Zayn. 

Zayn cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the side of his mug. There was no easy way to say this and he didn’t _have_ to say it yet. But it felt like he needed to. Had to. 

It wasn’t as if Louis was going to do it.

“I-” he started and swallowed because the words were sticking in his throat. He spun his mug around and squeezed his eyes tight. He just had to say it. It was easy enough to talk to Niall about, and Liam and Harry weren’t going to hate him. Couldn’t hate him. Probably.

“I’m-” he opened his eyes and stared down at where his hand was now shaking on the table. Zayn clasped his hands together in his lap and focused on them instead. Focused on the tiny beating heart that lay just above or next to where his hands were now. This wouldn’t end badly. He wanted this baby and they could be involved or not it was up to them and he had Niall and he’d definitely have Danny and Ant so he didn’t need anyone if things went badly. 

But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. He just needed to _say it out loud_.

“Zayn? You can tell us, whatever it is, mate.” Liam leaned over the table, reaching out a hand that if Zayn didn’t already have his own clasped in a death grip, he would have taken.

“I know. It’s just. This is really big and. I - I’m.” he licked at his lips and smiled when he felt Harry’s hand come over to cover his. 

Harry squeezed his fingers over Zayn’s and Zayn looked up and tried to smile - which with Harry’s answering grin meant he probably succeeded somewhat.

“Just tell them.” Niall said softly, “It’ll be fine. I told you.”

For a second - just a second - he really wished Louis _was_ there. Louis was always good at explaining things. He was the one that outed that they were more than casual shags to the group after they played a massive festival in Brazil. He was the one that took the lead when it came to their parents and Zayn and Louis moving in together. He was the one that fielded most of the questions during interviews and he was the one that initiated their first “fuck it all” snog when they’d won another of those weird Bambi awards that landed them in hot water with their management and PR reps. Louis was the one that spoke when Zayn didn’t have the words and now Louis wasn’t here - Zayn was unsure of how to go about it.

“Louis always does these things,” Zayn found himself saying, more to the table top than to anyone in particular and Harry’s hand slid up to his shoulder and around, pulling Zayn to Harry’s side.

“Did you fight?” Liam asked, brown eyes wide, sitting back a little in his chair.

Zayn shook his head. He should just _tell_ them. Blurt it out. _I’m pregnant! _but it felt like too much. Too strange to say it like that.__

__“Is this about him paying for Lottie to go to the States for the summer?” Harry asked, rubbing his hand over Zayn’s shoulder._ _

__Zayn shook his head again. He knew all about that, been the one to suggest to Louis that they give in to her not so subtle demands and make it a joint present. Then again - all their presents to family and friends were like that nowadays. “No, no. We talked about that. It’s for her birthday and Christmas. She chose it and all. No this is. . . this is different.”_ _

__Zayn’s foot tapped under the table. There was this nervous energy bouncing its way around his body and he knew - he _knew_ everything would be fine. He just had to say it. _ _

__“Is it about him putting a deposit on that studio in Kensington because I _told_ him to talk to you-”_ _

__“He did _what?_?” Zayn sputtered, eyes wide and staring at Liam who looked as if he wanted to rewind the last minute of words that tumbled from his mouth. He and Louis had talked about moving out that way but they hadn’t - they hadn’t made a decision either way and what did this mean? Was he planning on moving out already? Of course there was settlement and a whole rigmarole of red tape when buying a place but. Was it before or after they’d found out about the baby that Louis’d done this? Was it the day he’d gone out with Liam or after or before or - Zayn had a ton of questions but they didn’t really matter. It was obvious with Liam’s questioning that he didn’t know. Louis’ near right hand man when it came to having one close friend within the band and even _he_ didn’t know. Had Louis confided in anyone at all? Zayn closed his eyes and breathed in deep, letting it out through his nose._ _

__“No. This isn’t about any of that. This is mostly about me. Well, _all_ about me, really. Louis doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”_ _

__“Oh,” Harry said, pulling back from Zayn, his fingertips light on Zayn’s neck making him shiver. “Oh no. You. You’re not? _No_.” Zayn could see Harry shaking his head, curls flying everywhere from the corner of his eye. Harry’s touch left Zayn’s skin and this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Zayn felt the porridge Niall had cooked them up for breakfast starting to swirl in his gut. This wasn’t morning sickness though - this was a lot worse._ _

__“Harry-” Niall started, because Zayn was too busy staring back down at the tea he’d let go cold, freeing up one hand to press to the round of his stomach and when he _did_ look up it was to see both Harry and Liam both gazing down in the same direction._ _

__“Really?” Liam said, warmth and shock echoed in his stare - face paler than normal. Zayn nodded, his chest was too tight, throat too closed up to get out a word._ _

__“Really.” Harry breathed, resignation in his tone._ _

__“Really.” Niall said with a tad more emphasis than necessary. “He’s pregnant and Louis’ isn’t around and if anyone else doesn’t want to be, they’d better up and leave now. Zayn and the little one are gonna need all the help they can get so if you’re not up for it. You can go.”_ _

__“Wow, Nialler, that’s probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you utter without one fuck, shit, or bugger in it.”_ _

__Niall smiled at Harry and Zayn snorted - couldn’t help it - Harry was pretty much on the money there._ _

__“Well, yeah. But I meant it. Zayn’s got enough on his plate. He doesn’t need us adding to it. Right, Leemo?” There was an undercurrent to the way Niall said Liam’s name - nickname and all - it was still a little sharper. A little more like a warning or a threat, Zayn couldn’t be entirely sure. It was nice to have Niall as a bit of a guard for Zayn’s feelings though. Then again - he didn’t expect anything less. Zayn bit his lip, turning from where he’d been smiling at Niall to see Liam’s reaction. Liam still looked shocked. Eyes round and mouth a little open._ _

__“Liam?” Zayn said, placing his free hand on the table, reaching out to where Liam had made a similar move beforehand._ _

__“He left you. Both of you?” Liam asked, still staring at Zayn, a frown etched upon his brow._ _

__“Not properly. I mean, I walked out. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want us though.”_ _

__“He told you this?”_ _

__Zayn nodded. Louis might not have come right out and those exact words, but he didn’t say anything to the contrary either._ _

__Liam shook his head and reached out, his hand clasping over Zayn’s. “Anything you need. Anything.”_ _

__Zayn linked their fingers together and blinked hard, a few tears escaping from his eyes that he just let run down his cheeks. He wasn’t expecting that. Not from Liam._ _

__“See, told you it wouldn’t go badly,” Niall said softly, bumping Zayn’s shoulder with his own._ _

__

__. . 19 . ._ _

__“What the fuck are you eating?”_ _

__Zayn looked up from the bowl of custard that he was dipping his Ritz cracker into. He’d had nearly half a packet like this while Niall had been out doing - whatever it was Niall did when he didn’t have a pregnant mate to attend to._ _

__“It’s _so_ good, mate! Do you want?” Zayn offered up the packet, the bowl balanced on the slight bump of his tummy. _ _

__Niall looked at him, a line forming between his brow and it was almost as if Zayn could see the conversation going on in Niall’s head. To eat the weird combo or to waste an opportunity to try something just because it looked wrong. Niall bit at his lip and when Zayn saw his fingers twitch - he knew he’d won._ _

__“Give us it here then,”_ _

__Zayn smiled and held the bowl up with an expectant arch to his brow. Niall dipped the cracker in and put the mess in his mouth quick, a thin line of custard dripping down his chin. He chomped away, head moving side to side like shifting it would help him ascertain just how good it tasted. He licked his lips a few times after he swallowed and didn't say anything and it was driving Zayn mental the longer he was quiet._ _

__"So?" Zayn asked finally, taking out a cracker to dip and eat for himself. He'd thought it was a bit weird in the begining too, but his stomach was asking for really weird things of late and this was the first thing he'd been able to keep down in the morning for the past three days. His morning sickness hadn't faded completely but only came back with a vengence in the last week or so which Zayn blamed on the baby and Niall seemed to think was nerves._ _

__They _were_ going to talk to management at the end of the week. Which, in itself wasn't _that_ daunting because Zayn knew it could go one or two ways with what he was going to announce. They'd either let the band have a proper break so Zayn could get the time he needed to have this baby and figure out what he wanted to do after SB (Small Bump - because Niall thought it was hilarious that it matched Ed's song) was born, or they'd disagree and he'd have to leave the band right then and there. It wasn't completely the option he was hoping for, because not only would he have to pay out the end of their current contract - which _would_ hurt his hip pocket, even though he'd always been good with his money since the beginning - but the whole band would have to do the same._ _

__As if Zayn didn't feel bad enough about his pregnancy affecting more people than it should._ _

__Then there was the fact that Louis would be there. Louis would be in the same room and Management would _know_ that the baby was Louis' without Zayn having to utter a word but they'd also want to know why Zayn was handling it all on his own and Zayn really didn't want to rehash that with anyone. He'd pushed it out of his own mind so the idea of discussing his private life with people who really didn't need to be involved wasn't high on his list of priorities._ _

__Zayn chomped a little harder on the cracker in his mouth and set aside the ball of worry in his gut that started to make itself known. Instead, he focused on Niall who still hadn't said a word._ _

__"Niall?"_ _

__Niall nodded, "It's. . . it's an acquired taste?" he said, more like a question than anything else, as he scraped his tongue under his top teeth._ _

__Zayn frowned, "It's not that bad. You eat pretzels covered with chocolate. This is the same,"_ _

__Niall guffawed, "It is _nothing_ like the same! Chocolate goes with everything. It is known."_ _

__Zayn rolled his eyes and threw one of the cushions on the sofa at his friend, "You even ate those deep fried mars bars wrapped in bacon that one time in Scotland, you eat anything and everything at least once, Niall. How can you tell me custard and crackers are so wrong?"_ _

__Niall shrugged, settling himself down on the seat beside Zayn, "Fine, fine. Give us another go,"_ _

__Zayn shifted the bowl to the side furthest from his friend, clutching the pack of crackers to his chest at the same time, "No, you've lost all rights to the food of the gods,"_ _

__Niall pouted and Zayn just clutched the crackers closer to his body._ _

__

__. . 30 . ._ _

__“It’s not fair,” Zayn said, hiding his face under the pillow and wishing Louis would just give in to wanting a good nights rest. If he just sleep in the spare room instead maybe he’d stop spending every morning whining about Zayn hogging the whole bed at night. If he’d just do what Zayn told him to, then he wouldn’t be privy to Zayn’s current meltdown._ _

__“What isn’t, babe?” Louis’ voice sounded muffled from the weight of feathers above Zayn’s face. It wasn’t the easiest to breathe underneath them all, but at least the egyptian cotton was soft on his face. Textures were an _issue_ of late. That and being too hot or too cold or just too damn uncomfortable which was mostly why he was hidden under the pillow, blankets piled up to his chin and every single part of his body covered._ _

__“Nothing. You should sleep in the spare room tonight.” Zayn sighed, he didn’t want to argue or explain himself because Louis would _try_ to understand or call him stupid or something and Zayn, Zayn just wanted to be left alone to wallow. _ _

__There were fingers tugging at the hard grip Zayn had on the pillowcase. “Let go,” Louis said and Zayn answered back no, gripping harder._ _

__“I can’t hear you underneath all the down so can you just, can you let go, please?” Louis asked, prying two of Zayn’s fingers off only for him to grasp at the pillow once more._ _

__“No, I’m fine under here. Can’t you -” a loud whoosh of air left his lungs as a solid weight plonked itself on his chest, the little space Zayn actually _did_ have between the bump of their baby and his lungs being expelled by the force of Louis’ arse sitting on top of him. _ _

__“Lou! Gerrof!” Zayn squawked, pulling the pillow from his face and throwing it to the side with one hand while the other grappled for any piece of Louis he could pinch._ _

__“Ouch! I just-”_ _

__

__“Let me show you just how sexy you are,” Louis lips grazed Zayn’s shoulder, his blue eyes darkening as his teeth nipped the curve of Zayn’s collar bone. “Just how much I want you,” his tongue darted out, soothing the small bite, “now,” his mouth fit to Zayn’s neck where he’d let his head fall back against the mattress, “and always.”_ _

__The groan that left Zayn’s throat with Louis’ final words was nothing short of pornographic._ _

__

__**[epilogue]** _ _

__“It’s like breast feeding,” Zayn said, all fond and staring straight into Lola’s eyes as she really started to suckle at the bottle. Jay had been right about making the hole in the teet a little bigger with a pin. Lola was drinking like a champ now. He heard a snort and looked up only to find Harry and Niall with identical smirks, beers paused halfway to their lips._ _

__“If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you both.”_ _

__He focused back on the sweet baby _finally_ drinking in his arms and ignored the guffaws coming from his two idiot mates beside him._ _

__“Stop being pricks you lot, or we’ll take back what we said about being joint godfather’s and we’ll give it to James.” Louis admonished, arm curling around Zayn’s shoulder, face pressed close to Zayn’s as he cooed at their little girl._ _

__“She doing alright now, love?” Louis asked, pressing his lips to Zayn’s cheek quick._ _

__Zayn nodded. “Yeah, much better.”_ _

__And she was. They all were. Lola was happy and healthy in his arms. Louis was wrapped around him and their baby and Zayn knew without having to look how much love would be near glowing from his face. Their mates were all here and their family - not counting those who were now sat around the deck or flipping the steaks on the barbeque - were all there for them. They’d come a long way since finding out a blip on a tiny monitor was going to become a life changing moment for both of them - for all of them really._ _

__Zayn looked down at Lola’s sweet face, eyes that hadn’t quite decided on their colour yet fluttering closed behind dark, heavy lashes. “I think we’ll all be fine.”_ _

__

__XxX_ _

__

___19_  
stupid cravings (management, band stuff etc)  
20  
disappearing harry, baby moves but noone but zayn can feel it  
22  
go home to get some things. harry takes him. thinks its really over with louis and they argue and the baby moves and louis gets really emotional. something to do with Lou’s voice?  
23  
jay takes him shopping for baby crap and reassures zayn louis will come around. wanks off thinking about louis but gives up because he just misses him.  
24  
missed out on so much, i can't miss out on any more. can you? omg you have no idea how horny i've been. niall said i moan that much in my sleep that he thought he left his porn on  
30  
feeling really big and horrible and THAT half written sex scene  
35  
early labour  
epilogue 


	4. No Ordinary Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Zouis FIC.. artist!zayn, incredismarts!louis, cheesy love songs, smoulder, sex | louis/zayn

Louis meets Zayn when he walks into the little art gallery that’s squished in between Billy’s Beef Butchery and a plumbing store. Louis’s probably walked that same street, past those same shops for the last two years of university and never noticed it before. It’s barely a foot wide window beside a gigantic black door with a silver knocker, completely missable really. But something stops him this time, and this something is the fact as he is walking passed, a woman dressed to the nine’s with a black fur on is just headed out the door and knocks into him. He mumbles apologies but she’s already walked on and as Louis bends to pick up his text books, cursing a little that some of his colour coded post its have flown away in the wind and of _course_ his notebook had fallen in the only puddle of water anywhere he’s walked by that morning. He’s sorting everything into some type of order when he looks up to notice the door - the big black door he’s never given a thought to what lay behind before - is still open a crack. Louis’ always been the curious kind so he steps closer and he’ll tell anyone that’ll listen later, that it was the strains of music that pulled his feet over the threshold.

It’s marginally quieter when he closes the door behind him, books gripped tight against his chest with one hand as he uses the other to flick most of his fringe under his grey beanie. He’s padding down the long hall, toms squeaking on the shiny mahogany wooden floor and his eyes take in the stark white of the wall, broken only by these photographs that punch colour so bright it near hurts his eyes. Louis’ is intrigued though, the pictures are beautiful - bordering on pretentious - but that song is still playing and it reminds him of his mum in some ways. Of late Saturday nights after his father had left and he’d sit with her in the kitchen, listening to her talk with the radio on in the background until she’d start to cry because some horrid love song would come on. Then he’d pull her off the chair and they’d dance and he’d sing the lines, hamming up the ridiculousness of true love, love at first sight and love everlasting until she’d laugh and go up to bed with a smile on her face.

He misses his mum if truth be told, but she’s in Doncaster and he’s in London and with this being his final year, he can’t afford to just jump a train and see her and his sisters whenever he likes. Study has to come first and he’s up to his ears in final assessment so a jaunt just to ease his homesickness isn’t exactly in order. 

“You right there mate?” This voice from behind speaks all soft and low but apart from Sade singing about ordinary love, it’s loud and makes him jump.

“Yeah, um, yes. Just looking and all, that’s alright innit?” Louis babbles, on the defense already because he’s feeling slightly out of his depth with the price tags on the art and possibly because when he does look up after spinning around to where the voice came from, he’s slightly intimidated by the pretty boy sitting behind a tall desk.

Pretty isn’t a word Louis uses lightly when it comes to the male gender, but there’s nothing else for it (stunning, gorgeous, utterly fuckable with those bedroom eyes). This bloke has a sky high quiff, a blond streak at the front curled so it looks almost like the perfect barrel in the surf. His eyes are dark but even through these chunky black frames that surround them and from this distance of a few feet, Louis can see how they're framed by ridiculously long lashes. 

 

XxX

 

dance to buble everything more pining schmoopy fluff at the gallery  
‘when do you get off?’  
‘in about a minute if you don’t stop doing that with your hips’

shopping for grocerys - louis never has anything in his cupboards and harry walks up, kisses zayn ont he cheek and zayn returns it, fiddles in the basket zayn is carrying -   
‘oh your making the blah blah?’  
zayn blushes and louis hates that ‘yeah,’  
harry moves on hugging zayn and waving to lou and lou hates the way he feels.   
‘what’s wrong babe, you’ve been so quiet  
‘who was that bloke that hugged you earlier?  
‘harry? i’ve todl you bought harry haven’t i  
‘no  
‘oh, my ex. taught me how to cook actually, this is his signature dish’ suddenly louis can’t stomach another bite and he loved how it tasted before  
‘still seemed friendly  
‘yeah, just fizzled out i spose.   
and louis thinks about how different he looks to harry, how he’s so much bigger than even zayn and louis is so small, and how zayn is always saying he’s pocket sized and he wonders at what zayn sees in him because harry had tattoos too and louis hasn’t got any and harry worked at the art gallery got zayn the job there through caroline and louis’ may have gone into zayns phone and may have looked at old pictures and there’s zayn and harry and harry just looming over zayn and them kissing and why hasn’t zayn deleted these?   
he gets pissed off and when zayn gets back from putting their dishes away he doesn’t understand when louis pulls away.   
‘whats wrong?  
‘nothing -- but he throws zayns phone at him and zayn blushes and louis remembers the same heat on his face from the bloody grocery store and maybe there’s something more than just ex and maybe  
‘what do you even see in me?  
and zayn is all bug eyed and shakes his head  
‘because look at him, those photos you’ve kept and then look at me and i’m nothing like that. nothing at all and i’m not even close apart from my biceps and well i definitely have a better bum than he does but  
and something about zayn showing him what he loves and then the sexytimes   
louis riding zayn and zayn touching him with warm hands and fingertips that encompass his hips and then wrap around his waist and lou is close but he can’t stop staring at zayn either, at all the ink because he never liked tats, never liked them at all even on other people but these just make zayn even more beautiful and he constantly wants to run his fingers over the sharp lines that zig and zag around the zap on his right forearm and trace the arabic on zayns collarbone with his tongue and bite his own purple and red hues into zayn’s perfect olive skin because he can because zayn is his and zayn’s letting one hand slide up louis spine, sliding over sweat slick skin and the his thumb is pressing into the back of Louis neck and lou is close and he says that but shakes his head when zayn’s other hand slips down close to lou’s dick  
‘no, i want, i want it, i want it to just be from you’ he pants and he’s staring at zayn who’s eyes just widen as he surges up and pulls louis in close and their kiss is near brutal but it’s more zayn’s teeth against lou’s bottom lip because FUCK if zayn’s moving hasn’t found that part deep inside where zayn is just pulsing his hips up as best he can and louis is just grinding down and it feels so good so good but not enough and louis squeezes at zayn’s shoulder and wordlessly zayn rolls them and rearranging his arms so that he hooks lou’s knees over his elbows, leaning in close and bending louis in half as he pushes in slow and deep and just keeps going at this ridiculously slow place so louis can feel every INCH and its maddening and he can’t breath, can’t keep his hands still from trying to grasp at Zayn’s forearms and then the bedsheets and then it doesn’t matter anymore because his back is arching, he feels like he could snap his spine in half as his orgasm just rips right out of him and his mouth drops open, eyes slam shut as he comes and comes and faintly feels zayn follow inside.

 

you are the sunshine of my life stevie wonder - zayn karaoke end?  
and he see’s the similiarities that zayn does. see’s the way Harry is loud and funny and cheeky the way louis can be and he looks across at liam who’s sitting beside zayn and having some sort of conversation that is through looks and few words and he can see what he finds now in zayn that he did with liam. but this time is different for them both. and yeah, maybe those love songs had things right and maybe his mum and his dad were that other brand of country love songs, done somebody wrongs songs but even those started off with two people meeting and falling so hard and fast it seemed like there may never be a bottom.  
louis isn’t afraid of falling with zayn, because he knows zayn will hold his hand through it all. (idk that makes no sense but meh, work it out later)  
‘its cheesy but its what brought them together so its them after all, isn’t it?’


	5. Watch It Spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Zarry road trip fic

He wakes up to the purr of an engine and Harry humming some tune that he thinks he should know but Harry stops before he can quite place it. Green eyes flicker quickly down to where Zayn is lying almost on his side in the passenger seat, and back up to the road again.

Zayn blinks and wonders if it’s the suns first rays warming Harry’s face or if it’s the end of the day turning everything apricots and peaches and plums. Harry doesn’t turn back and Zayn’s asleep again before he can think to ask.

. . .

He can hear more than one voice, it’s muted sort of so he thinks they’re outside the car – maybe Harry’s filling it up. He pays no mind, focuses on his breathing and shuffles down into his coat a little, trying to block the suns light. It’s only when the voices stop and Harry’s door opens letting in a blast of cool air that Zayn thinks he should stop pretending to be asleep. He’s sure he hears the squawk of a gull but that would mean they were near the sea and not Wolverhampton and not. . .  
So he forces his eyes closed, ignores the ache in his chest and let’s Harry turn the engine over and thinks he’ll ask about it later.

. . .

The next time he wakes, it’s because Harry is stroking his face and it feels nice. He’s calling Zayn’s name, whispering it really and Zayn blinks and licks at his sleep dry lips.

Harry’s sort of smiling, the corner of his lips turning up as those clear green eyes search Zayn’s. “You're awake,” he says and Zayn snorts then yawns, stretching his legs out as he rolls onto his back in the seat.

“You woke me,” he says through another yawn, twisting his head from side to side listening to his neck pop as he rolls his shoulders. “Where are we?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes that feel like there’s a mountain of sand and grit behind them. Ugh, and his head is all cottony too – feels too full and that’s the effects of last night’s alcohol still with him then.

“You have to promise to just, go with it alright,” Harry says from just outside the car and this should be the first hint that Zayn might not like what’s going on but he ignores it. He yawns once more, arms stretching above his head to the soft roof of the interior, pressing his fingers hard against it. It’s as if he can actually _feel_ his blood start{missing bit)

“Harry,” he says, opening his eyes a little more to take in their surroundings. It looks like they’re stuck in traffic but they can’t be because Harry’s outside his door and the car isn’t going. He knows it gets bad on the motorway but – Harry standing on the road chatting to him is another thing altogether.

“Just – remember that we’re friends and I do this out of love,” Harry says and Zayn shoots him a look from the corner of his eyes. Harry is looking down now and shuffling his feet and – “Harry, why is there a sign for the Eurotunnel – Harry where the fuck are we?”

Zayn’s sliding out of the car now, the height of Harry’s old Range Rover having him land on his sock clad feet a little hard but it just serves to wake him up a little more. He sort of wishes he didn’t toe his shoes off at some point during their car ride – was he really asleep for four hours or whatever it was to take them from the party to here? It seemed plausible, but still.

Harry just looks up at him from under the curls he’s never really done much with since the band ended, just let grow out and continue to flip around his face with long fingers or pin back with his headband and beanie combo. “Remember I said this was out of love, well – surprise! We’re going on that road trip we always talked about,” he smiles and it’s complete with dimples. Zayn hates that Harry can look this, well, adorable really when Zayn is still feeling the after affects of far too much vodka and whatever else it was he got his hands on after things got so messed up the night before.

“Harry-“ Zayn starts, already shaking his head and feeling his gut twist because it _was_ something they’d talked about. But that was during their first ever tour of Europe and saying they wanted to come back some day and that was before they were in a world famous boy band and now? Well now they were none of those things – both having slipped back into the shadows of those that had once been names on the lips of millions everywhere, now featuring more in “where are they now?” fluff pieces when the rags had nothing better to print.

“Look,” Harry says, stepping closer and Zayn can’t help but look up at him, clear green eyes filled with concern and that only makes Zayn look back at the ground. He can’t have Harry looking at him like that. Not now. Not with everything that happened last night and all that Harry knows, has known. He’s not ready for that level of _pity_ just yet.

“Mate, there’s never been a better time, alright? I’ve got your passport, I’ve got tickets and I’ve just had the jeep serviced. I even packed some of your shit the other night when you were too stoned to notice,” Harry says, and as much as he sounds all positive, excited even, Zayn thinks he can still hear the hesitancy there – that Zayn might say no and this might all go tits up before it’s even started.

And he should say no. He should shake his head and walk off and find a cab and just – fuck off home like his body wants him to. Crawl under the covers and not come out until everything stops _hurting_ and even then, only to kill his lungs with tar and nicotine or weed because he still has a bit of pull with his dealer and that he can get delivered to his home. He wants to wallow, to hate his life and his choices and all that other bullshit that girls do when they’re emotional and heart broken.

But he’s not a girl and at any rate, Harry wouldn’t let him go if he’s gone as far as planning all of this already so. . .

“Do we have time to at least grab a bite to eat before we have to check in?”

Harry’s smile isn’t as bright or as wide as before, but the way he ducks his head and turns away, hitting the hood of the car three times is enough to have Zayn wondering if this was all part of Harry’s master plan all along.

. . .

“Where to now?” Harry asks with a yawn, it may have been a short rail trip and even longer in line waiting to get back on the road but the effects of being up since the day before are taking their toll. Zayn could have offered to drive but – his chest still aches and his insides still feel slightly raw and this was Harry’s idea after all, so no.

Zayn shrugs, he opens his eyes a crack from under his dark glasses and looks out at the streetscape around them. It’s not like they ever made a plan of places to go or things to see when they’d talked about seeing Europe. They’d visited so many cities during their time as a band – but most of that had been from behind tinted windows or with security breathing down their necks and now? Now there was none of that, five years after the band split might seem like a short amount of time but in the world of music where the next big thing was always there to take over from those that had been – it was long enough for most to forget who they were. They’d not been recognised once while on the train over and yeah, it was a train and they’d spent the whole time in the car – Zayn asleep and Harry just playing on his phone, but the fact they could _do_ something like that without notice was still something Zayn was getting used to. Even if he’d made the transition from pop sensation to has-been with more ease than the rest of them. 

“Flip a coin,” he says eventually because Harry is tapping his fingertips on the wheel and someone is blaring their horn behind them long enough for Zayn to realise they’re holding up traffic just sitting here. He digs into his pocket, coming up with 50p that somehow has been tucked away in there and flicks it up quick, slapping it down on top of his wrist. “Heads Calais and sleep, tails Calais and sleep,”

Harry just laughs and drives, calling out heads – even though it isn’t needed.

They find a nice little hotel and even though Zayn has had some rest, they both end up toppling fully clothed onto the twin beds and Zayn isn’t sure about Harry, but he doesn’t intend to get up until the sun has risen again. The more distance, the more time he can get in-between him and what went on in a house in Wolverhampton the better. 

. . .

It’s late by the time they wake up and eat and Harry grabs a map the next morning. They don’t say much – don’t talk about why Zayn ended up in Harry’s car or why they’re _really_ on this trip. Instead, it’s all talk about what they want to do and what they want to see and it’s such a mixture and such a mess that they end up getting Zayn’s coin out again to make decisions.

Even then, they still have a crazy amount and in Harry’s words, “We only have a week mate. We can’t possibly see all of these.”

He’s right. They _do_ only have a week because Harry’s only _just_ got that time off from his job at BBC1 doing the morning shift (he must have had to bribe Grimmy something serious to get Nick up and about to fill in for him at _that_ hour) and Zayn’s got . . . well nothing on at the moment.

Ever since the band broke up he’s been trying to find his way. Trying to find another niche or another groove and in five years he’s had about double that in career changes. He did producing for a few friends bands – he and Perrie were still great mates and she was doing great on her own and with Lil Mix. But being in a studio was strangely lonely. After ten years of having four other idiots in his presence at all times – it was oddly quiet without them and even though it was a mutual decision to go their own ways, it still felt almost as if he were cheating on the band by being back there.

He still went to parties and things and it was at one that a buyer who’d seen a little of his graphic art wanted to commission him for an idea he had. That lead into an office job where he sat at a table and got to be creative – within the limits of an ezine and designing ads and things. It wasn’t for him though – he didn’t wear a suit or anything, the office was contemporary casual – but the whole nine to five thing was just a bad fit.

There were lots of random things after that – a stint teaching music at his old high school, two years in Ibiza actually _being_ DJ Malik, a TV thing for an American music program on cable that never actually made it to air – and now he’d just finished working behind a bar that his mate had opened a year ago. Pouring drinks for others got real old – especially when they figured out just why “your face mate, fuck your face is so familiar! Have I seen you round somewhere before?” So he’d tossed that idea in and started painting again. He wasn’t sure about showing it to anybody – he’d only ever shown the boys and most of the time that was just Liam but. . . .

So there was nothing really for Zayn to rush back to so if they made a few important places they had on the list – then they did, if they didn’t – well there would always be a next time.

According to Harry there would be.

They got out on the road with Harry behind the wheel, his strange indie music list - “Driver rules, mate,” – humming from the speakers and it was Zayn’s job to decide where to.

“Heads we turn left, tails right,” and Zayn flipped the silver into the air, clasping it hard on his wrist as Harry called out Heads. Zayn laughs as he shows him the coin and they merge into the traffic headed out of the city and onto the A16.

The drive is nice. The sun is out and Harry’s music choices aren’t _that_ bad but soon enough there’s nothing really to look at which means Zayn is thinking more and then it’s the party and it’s brown eyes in shock and Zayn saying things he shouldn’t have. Never wanted to. Definitely not like he had done.

He sighs and turns in on himself, pulling one leg up and under him somehow on the seat and it’s when he lays his head on the window beside him that Harry finally speaks.

“Right mate?”

Zayn makes a non-committal grunting sound. He can’t explain – doesn’t think he can anyway, because he isn’t entirely sure how much Harry knows and if he doesn’t – Zayn isn’t up for filling him in just yet.

They’re quiet again and Zayn’s beginning to resent Harry’s emo taste in music because he’s got John Mayer on and it’s ripping Zayn’s heart apart. The lyrics aren’t cheesy or morbid or even too much about love lost but there’s one line that just keeps repeating in Zayn’s mind long after the playlist has shuffled on and it’s making it hard for him to breathe.

_MAN ON THE SIDE LYRICS_

He closes his eyes, wraps an arm around his waist and holds himself in because it’s starting to feel like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t. Then his brain fills in the blanks – Liam’s vacant stare and then the sadness, shock and what was probably disgust toward the end there. The night is blurry, sort of like he’s trying to remember a dream and only flashes are coming back to him but those that are just _hurt_. Zayn wishes that it _had_ been all an over active imagination could produce in slumber instead of his stupid vodka loosened tongue and news that should have been expected but cut him to the quick all the same.

There’s an ache in his chest now, this empty feeling that is sort of throbbing the more he remembers and the more he remembers the more he doesn’t want to. It’s hard to shut the feelings off what with Harry’s music and the nothing out the window and he’s glad the sky is darkening but also not because in the dark he can make shadows turn into people he’s left behind.

“’S getting dark soon, where do you want to stop?”

Zayn startles, his forehead hitting against the window much to Harry’s amusment – though the bastard does try to rein in his obvious need to laugh by biting at his bottom lip. Zayn shuffles about, blinking in the low light until he spots the map that’s fallen under his feet. Of course Harry would forget the [Sat Nav/Nav Man WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU CALL THEM IN THE UK] and looks for the next major town on the list and laughs because – “Do you still keep in touch with Ed’s mate Lars?”

Harry smiles and nods and throws his iPhone at Zayn. “He’s under Mr Tambourine man,”

. . .

Amsterdam is everything Zayn can’t really remember about it.

 

XXX

[not! fic plot]

The car dies when they’re in a little part of france, then they ride trains “more romantic anyway” or something. Just ride until someplace looks nice, get off spend the day or night then - toss a coin maybe decide on where to go next? Don’t talk much, bits of conversation over food or while everyone is sleeping? Not so famous anymore – not as well recognised and why would they be bcause they’re travelling on a freaking train with backpacks etc.  
Its been two weeks and zayn over hears harry on the phone – it’s Louis and he’s telling Louis he can’t just its not enough. Its not enough anymore. Then he realises he’s not alone in this heart ache.  
Mentions Budapest – you always wanted to see (something there) and zayn is all – but that was when we were fifteen haz, no one remembers stuff from when they were fifteen – well i do. I just do. And theres a moment, a kiss moment and then they have to run to catch their train and it’s gone.  
How long do you think we can keep doing this?  
Until there’s no more track left or until it stops hurting  
What if it never stops?  
There’s always another line.  
Have all their gear stolen at a party they fall into with some nice Swedish women. They seem lovely and they had good drugs and the high was great and maybe when he and harry fell asleep it’s curled around each other and maybe they’re not really asleep because zayn kind of loves the way smells and maybe he presses his mouth to harry’s collarbone and maybe he just dents it a little with his teeth and maybe he feels harry press closer and then they’re not pretending to be asleep at all anymore.  
BUT when they wake and really wake its to smiles and bashful looks and not knowing what to say because things have changed and maybe it was just the high for harry but maybe it wasn’t and harry gets up and then he notices everything is gone. EVERYTHING. So they hangabout outside the English consulate and maybe words are thrown here and there and maybe harry reveals he knew that liam was asking Danielle and he also might have told liam about zayns feelings about liam and that’s it really. Zayn tells him to fuck off and harry does and zayn hangs around long enough for Louis to bring money – he asks about harry and zayn tells him he cant do that anymore. Harry wont be his to fuck around. And Louis says are you fucking him around then and zayn says no. But in his head – i’m just the last one that fucked him off.  
And he realises that it was hard for both of them and that harry’s revealed more about himself about how he feels and how he’s protected zayn from the liam Danielle thing as much as he could and maybe zayn will always feel something for liam but its not really anything like he feels for harry. So he goes to Budapest and that THING is happening (once his visa and everything is right with the consulate) and he looks around for harry but he’s not there. He’s not and then he’s waiting for the train and harry walks in looking as forlorn as zayn feels and then it’s a ‘hey’ and a ‘hey’ and they link pinkies but its not enough, so zayn winds his hand into harrys and harry squeezes so hard its the sorry and i feel it too that zayn is looking for and he squeezes back just as tight because its i’m sorry too and god i think i’ve fallen in love with you? And then they look at each other through long dark lashes littered with snow and zayn leans his head oto harry’s shoulder and harry leans his head onto zayns and the announcer says something and neither of them speak (whatever it is) and then zayn holds out the coin – heads or tails?  
And they watch it spin.


	6. Sunburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that one time I toyed with the idea of underage FIC... And obviously never finished. Older!Zayn, younger!harry (boyfriend moment between liam/zayn)

sunburn

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, love?”

Zayn sighed, “Yes, Mrs. Styles. I’ve got your emergency numbers on the fridge, mum’s only two doors down and I remember what Harry’s bedtime is.”

“Sorry Zayn, you know how I worry.” Mrs Styles smiled, her eyes flicking over Zayn’s shoulder to the stairs where Harry had been sat, hands on knees since Zayn had arrived ten minutes earlier.

“We’ll be fine, really,” Zayn assured her once more, and with one last ‘love you’ to Harry, Mrs Styles was out the door.

After making sure the door was locked, and dead bolted - all according to Mrs. Styles’ (and he’d never be calling her Anne, no matter how many times she asked) list of ‘Home Safety Directions’ and took a deep breath. He wasn’t normally this on edge when he came over to babysit Harry. But his boyfriend had been in his ear lately on the looks Harry was apparently giving Zayn at school and a specific smile Liam had noticed Harry sending Zayn’s way. Zayn had laughed it off and laughed it off - until he realised Liam might have had a point..

He caught Harry watching he and Liam say/snog goodbye outside Liam’s home last week – a whole street away from where Zayn and Harry lived. A street that Harry had no reason to be near considering how they’d waved Harry off at his gate ten minutes earlier. It had thrown Zayn for a loop but when he’d turned to walk back up his house, he’d managed to convince himself it was just curiosity on Harry’s part, nothing else. After all – Harry was at the same age Zayn had been when he’d questioned his sexuality. And Zayn would have to be blind if hadn’t noticed the way Harry’s face would change whenever he started talking about his mate -- Louis -- during dinner on the previous Saturday night when Zayn had managed to burn the soup and they’d had to order in (using all of Zayn’s gained money from the overnight Harry-sitting gig.)

But it did make him second guess coming over tonight.

But he did need the money.

So he came and decided it wasn’t his place to discuss why Harry might be acting the way he was. It wasn’t up to him to give out sage advice even though Harry had told him a few times already that he was the ‘only gay I know, that is, like proper gay and stuff”. Zayn never did ask him what that meant, and now, he was sort of glad he didn’t.

“Alright?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and watching the lad in front of him hug his knees a little tighter before raising his brows above bright green eyes. God his eyes were huge, these emotive green things that conveyed so much with so little movement.

“Yeah,” Harry said in return, a hint of a smile playing just above where his mouth was hidden from sight. His brows smoothed back to normal and Zayn wondered if Harry’s eyelashes ever got in the way of him seeing – the damn things looked that long when he was blinking and talking and well – just framing his eyes in general.

He was not jealous of Harry’s eyes. That would be weird.

And Liam was constantly telling him how dark and dreamy Zayn’s own eyes were.

Cheesy yes, but once in a while, cheesy is needed.

Like now.

Zayn nodded toward the living room. “Call of Duty or the Muppets again?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore, Zayn. I turned thirteen ages ago remember!”

Zayn snorted, as if turning thirteen meant you were suddenly oh so adult. “So Muppets it is then?” he asked with a smirk.

“Assho-“

“Don’t even finish that, Haz. Come on then, show me what skills a grown up lad such as yourself has with a CGI gun.”

Harry did smile then, and Zayn grinned back at him. “I’ll take you down in a heartbeat, Malik.” Harry was up and past Zayn in no time calling out dibs for the better, closer seat to the telly before Zayn could even get a proper comeback out.

Sometimes he hated that his Friday (and Saturday) nights were taken up with this stupid babysitting deal his mother and Harry’s had worked out as a solution to the factory changing their shifts. Harry’s mum had no one to watch over him on her night shifts and Zayn’s mother so kindly offered the services of her eldest son purely out of the goodness of her own heart. Well – that and the fact Mrs Style's offered to take Zayn’s younger sisters for a few hours twice a week while Zayn’s mum got the shopping done on her own. Zayn originally hated the idea – but what with his GCSE’s coming up this year and his house not exactly quiet having four younger sisters to contend with – it probably would work out the best in the long run.

It didn’t hurt either that Harry was near spoilt by his mother – games of all descriptions, several different consoles and a dvd collection to rival Choices Video down on London Rd. An added benefit really was just how – easy it was to ‘look after’ Harry. He was thirteen after all, no nappies or bottle feeds or questions only being answered to be followed by yet another question like Zayn  
was used to at home. No, he only had to make sure Harry’d be in bed before ten on a Friday and eleven on a Saturday and ‘not too much of that junk out of the cupboard, Zayn dear. Upsets his stomach and nobody needs to smell that, even if we have two loos.”

“Are you coming or just standing out in the hall all night, old man?”

Zayn blinked as Harry’s croaky voice called out, the sounds of the game loading starting in the background. Zayn shook himself off, and headed inside clipping Harry over the back of the head for the ‘old man’ remark on his way in.

“I’m only three years and twenty days older than you! I wouldn’t call me that old.” Zayn sitting at the opposite end of the sofa from Harry who was already throwing the controller in Zayn’s direction without looking up from the start screen. “Better bring your A game, Styles.”

“Oh it will be brung,” Harry said with a smirk, flicking his dark curls up and out of his face in that swishy way Zayn had seen him do more often lately – and it made him wonder if his boyfriend was right, if maybe Harry did indeed have a little crush on him. Then again, most boys Harry’s age had their hair like that lately – so it was probably nothing. And Zayn really hoped it was because he liked Harry but, well – that would be weird wouldn’t it? And it would mean Liam was right so the ribbing there would be endless.

And he’d owe Liam a blowie behind the bike sheds.

“It will be brought,” Zayn said in return, he wasn’t in the top level in English for his year for nothing.

Harry laughed as the game started, his green eyes flashing at Zayn’s for a moment. “Sure, Mister Malik.” He shifted his legs up, tucking them under his body before stretching one foot out to kick at Zayn’s who was sitting in a similar position. “First to ten kills makes the popcorn?”

Zayn kicked back at Harry. “Not so much butter this time, some of us don’t want clogged arteries before we’re thirty.”

“Before you’re thirty, I thought you already were?”

Zayn kicked at him harder. “And watch the salt. You always go overboard on the salt.”

Harry didn’t look up this time, the tiny pink tip of his tongue already poking out the side of his mouth, pressed hard between his lips. Zayn shook his head, hating that he was focusing on how red Harry’s lips looked, pressed together the way they were and concentrated on the game ahead.

See. There was nothing strange going on here. No strange crush on Harry’s part and no sort of wrong thoughts from Zayn’s side either. Liam had no idea what he was talking about, filling Zayn’s head earlier that week with talk of how Harry’d been looking at him in the halls at school or how Harry always ended up walking home a few feet behind or in front of them. Which really, made no sense because he lived two houses down from Zayn, it wasn’t like he was going to walk any other way to get there was it? Liam could take his little digs about Harry wanting to seduce his babysitter and shove them.

There wasn’t anything funny going on here.

Hours later, when Zayn looked over as the credits to The Muppets movie rolled on screen - his fingers twitched to brush Harry’s one wayward curl from his forehead where it shifted with each of Harry’s breaths. If maybe he took a little extra care wrapping the blanket from the back of the sofa around Harry’s sleeping form, there was nothing more than a little tenderness on his part. Nothing else. 

Not at all.

 

[part two]

Zayn loved snogging. It was probably his favourite past time when it came to whoever he was involved with. A good kiss could really lighten his mood – could fix the darkest of emotions or add to the highest of highs. He wasn’t exactly choosey about them either. Every press of lips on lips was worthy of his attention. There were first kisses that told everything that words and looks couldn’t. The sneaky snog when you just couldn’t get enough of each other and even the quick peck to say hi. His favourite though, his absolute, hands down favourite was the horizontal kiss-a-thon.

There was something wonderful about having the warm weight of someone above you, pressing you down into the sofa or whatever soft, slightly yielding surface that was at your back. He liked being on top too, but there was a lot more freedom for your hands when someone was over you. Freedom to run your hands down their sides, thread your fingers into their hair or get a really good grip on their arse to pull them in.

It was perfect then, that he’d met someone like Liam who enjoyed being a student in the art of kissing as much as Zayn did. It also helped that Mrs. Styles didn’t mind him having a ‘study partner’ over on Saturdays. She even used the quotation mark fingers when asking how Liam was. It should have been a bit weird but Mrs. Styles was nice and didn’t care about Zayn’s sexuality – as long as he didn’t ‘get anything on the sofa dear, heavy petting is fine as long as it doesn’t stain the fabric.” She understood that having a permanent weekend job (and night at that) seriously cramped Zayn’s social life so if he had Liam over for a few hours it was pretty fair really.

What Zayn hadn’t counted on, as Liam slotted his knee in just the right way between Zayn’s legs and shifted in that perfect direction making Zayn moan. What Zayn hadn’t expected was to open his eyes and catch sight of Harry at the bottom of the stairwell, framed in the light coming from the hall. Zayn sort of froze, not that Liam noticed – the hand that wasn’t currently holding him above Zayn was stroking up and down Zayn’s side in the most lazy and maddening of ways. Liam was obviously focused elsewhere. Zayn blinked as Liam sucked what was probably going to be a fantastic looking bruise on Zayn’s collarbone and when his eyes opened again, the Harry shape was gone.

It was easy to put what he thought he saw out of mind. Liam was doing a stand up job of keeping Zayn occupied with the swivel of his hips and the feel of those plump lips of his roaming across the taut line of Zayn’s neck as he arched into Liam’s touch. Zayn reached up, curling his fingers into the waves of Liam’s hair and pulled him in close, hooking his ankle up high over Liam’s thigh. He smiled into Liam’s shoulder as Liam rocked into the newly created space and turned his head as Liam bent in low, whispering Zayn’s name amongst a bunch of half formed profanities and near froze again because maybe he’d been right before. Maybe there was someone there in the shadows. There wasn’t a shape as such this time, more a feeling that he was being watched and it wasn’t just Liam doing all the watching.


	7. Why You Talk So Loud?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nouis canon FIC 2015 or another I CANT DO CANON TOO MUCH CHANGES TOO FAST BEFORE I CAN WRITE IT (basically just PWP)  
> so this is basically Porn with a capital P. My SWEET POTATO wanted to explore louis having all these little dalliances now he's a free man and we thought niall should show him the way. its SUPPOSED to be really long and involve them doing this once and then being all fwb but then WITH the feelings and working out that he doesn't just like fucking niall. he LIKES niall. but..

"Just start with one, yeah? Just. . . slow. Like, like that, _fuck_ ,"

Niall's eyes roll back in his head a bit as Louis slides his finger in and he's shaking but that could be the come down for all he knows. He's far too concentrated on the way Niall's panting, how red his fucking lips are from where Louis bit at them to be worried about anything else. 

God, he's gorgeous and Louis can't stop _looking_ at him.

His tongue flicks out quick over his lips, shiny now. "That's good, good," he doesn't say anything else, just leans forward to capture Louis' mouth with his own. It's probably supposed to be a brush of lips but Louis presses up off the bed into it, turning it deep and dirty. It's like there's this fizzing under his skin that only grows with every pass of Niall's tongue against his own. It's addictive.

It takes Niall setting back on his haunches a bit for Louis to remember he's supposed to be doing more than just kissing. He slides his finger in to the next knuckle and shifts a bit faster with how he can feel Niall's gasp as he does so against his lips. Louis twists his finger a bit on the slide out, a shiver sparking up Niall's spine that has Louis grinning and trying to do whatever it was he just did to make that happen, again. 

"Another," Niall says, bright blue eyes staring straight into Louis' own. "Need more, like, if I'm gonna take you," 

Louis feels his cheeks heat and he nods, nipping at Niall's chin where he's missed a bit shaving. It bristles against Louis' skin so he does it again, smiling as Niall moans. 

"C'mon, you fuck. I could do this me'self faster, y'know!" Niall curses, his hand leaving where he'd been slowly jacking Louis' off, bumping quick against Louis' own hand. 

"Bloody needy thing, aren't you?" Louis snaps light, more breathy than snarky like he'd hoped. He's still a little wowed by the fact they're here like this. It was only a handful of hours ago they were in the club, dancing and drinking and snorting shit in the bathroom. Now here he is, naked in Niall's hotel room with his dick slick and dark pink from being sucked and Niall naked and near pouting above him.

Fucking _Vegas_.

Louis tucks his middle finger alongside his index on the next press in and Niall groans out something that is either Louis' name or something worse. He slides his lips down the long slope of Niall's neck where he's looking away, focused on the wall, probably. Louis can feel Niall talking again, a buzz under his lips as Louis licks at the salt damp sweat of his skin. 

"Y'feckin' bastard. Twist 'em a bit, yeah? Yeah. . . yeah," Niall curses again and Louis' always known Niall was loud. Always known how bloody _dirty_ he can be when he fucks but this is different. 

This is personal, being all up close. Having his fingers _inside_ Niall like this. Tasting Niall on his tongue while Niall's hand circles the base of his cock and glides his thumb over the crown. Louis arches into it as much as he can under Niall as he does as Niall asks, turning his fingers on the slide in and scissoring them apart a bit on the glide out. God, it's so wet. Niall's so wet from all the lube he'd squeezed over Louis' fingers and in the crack of his arse. Glistening in the lamplight while it rolled down between his thighs as he squeezed over Louis' hand curled around the bottle. Louis had _laughed_ when Niall had said he liked it like that. Liked it wet like a girl. Louis wouldn't know the difference.

Louis does. He fucking _does_. 

Eleanor never cursed like this. Eleanor never felt this fucking _tight_ on his fingers or bit at his skin like Niall had over Louis' nipples earlier. She never wanked him off this sure, this steady, this well before, either. Maybe there was something to be said for having another lad hold your dick like this. Knowing exactly how tight a squeeze was enough before pleasure turned a sharp right into pain.

Niall knocks his cheek against Louis' and they lock eyes as they kiss again. Niall sucking on Louis' tongue as he rocks back against Louis’ hand. Louis slides his free hand over Niall's side. Tip taps his fingers over the thin skin covering Niall's ribs, sending Niall swaying a bit to the side to get away. 

"Fucker," Niall whispers with a half grin, cheeks pink and sweat soaked blond curls stuck to his forehead. He kisses away the chuckle bursting from Louis' lips, tastes like cigarettes and vodka and something bitter on his tongue. 

God, he's missed kissing. Proper snogging like this is something Louis loves above all else. . . well, maybe getting his cock sucked. Niall'd already done a decent job of that when they'd had another hit of coke before they left the club. Dropped to his knees while Louis blinked and blinked away the rush as it lit up his veins. Niall had somehow got Louis' fly open and his dick out in between Louis snorting up and blissing out. He'd come so quick and kissed the taste of himself from Niall's mouth before Alberto had banged on the door and told them their time was up. Niall adjusted himself while Louis tucked himself back in, giving himself a cursory wipe with some bog roll. He was still shaking, taking forever with the button, only looking up when he heard Niall cackling, head thrown back and eyes hidden with how hard he was squinting them up. 

"Fuck, Tommo," Niall had said, throaty and soft as he reached over, dragging Louis into a bruising kiss with his hand wrapped around the back of Louis' neck. "My room, yeah? When we get back?" He was all teeth and tongue and it shouldn't have had Louis even contemplating doing this again, doing more, but he kissed Niall back with just as much enthusiasm. 

He'd slid his hand down between them and over the obvious bulge still remaining in Niall's tight jeans, and squeezed, hoping it was answer enough. Niall rocked into his touch, moaning into Louis' neck. Louis'd felt ever so fucking bold, and it sparked something inside him. Made Louis wonder if this new interest in fucking around with mates with dicks was something more than just what a line or two of coke made an excuse for.

Alberto had called out again as Niall grabbed at Louis hand, dragging them out the stall with Louis following easily behind. They'd gone the back way out of the club, finding Andy and Olly already waiting, Calvin having stayed on with some bird he'd found on the dance floor. They all piled in the van, Louis sitting up front and Niall taking a seat further back. Louis' leg kept bouncing, and he couldn't stop licking at his lips, running his tongue along the smooth sides of his teeth. Olly put a hand on his leg when they'd had to slow for traffic, Niall laughing at something Andy had said a sound in the background.

"Good shit, yeah?" Olly had asked, his eyes too blown out to be just from the shots he knew Olly'd had quite a few of.

Louis could only nod. Good didn't even begin to describe how he felt right now.

If there were any regrets tomorrow, if any of this got weird or something. . . at least he could blame most of this on that. He didn't do coke often but when he did, it usually ended the same way. Louis high and happy and fucking horny as hell. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to do shit with Niall. He'd sucked Calvin off in that hotel room in Manchester the last time he'd been offered a line of white. It made him want too much. Made giving in too easy.

Or maybe it just let Louis not give a fuck with a reason to blame it on after.

"Need this, need more," Niall whimpers, sitting up, hands on Louis chest and bringing Louis back to where they were now. Louis somehow three fingers deep in Niall's arse, a dirty wet sound between them every time he shifted them in and out. Niall's beautiful though, in a way Louis never thought he would be. Flushed skin, rosy red from his cheeks down his neck and chest. Bright blue eyes focused on Louis like he catches them on stage sometimes, but this feels different. _Is_ different.

Niall's grinning at him, sweat damp hair pushed up and off his forehead with one hand so it's sticking up all over. The dimple in his chin near invisible from how he has his head tilted back, reaching between them to tug at Louis' cock a little more. 

"Can take 'em out now, I'm all good. You're so good," he sighs as Louis does as he's asked, rubs the excess over Niall's inner thigh before settling both of his hands on Niall's hips. 

"Had a good teacher, yeah?" Louis answers on a gasp, Niall's bloody hangnail catching on Louis' slit as he fingers at the head, rubbing at Louis' foreskin where it's tight.

Niall snorts, leaning to the side of Louis to grab at something under the pillow beside Louis' head. He leans back over Louis after a moment, kissing him long and deep. He'd laugh and tease Niall about being prepared - but he'd already done that when Niall had produced the bottle of lube earlier. Either way, he doesn't really mind. Louis can barely feel Niall rolling the latex down over his cock, too preoccupied by Niall's tongue in his mouth and Niall's bitten down fingernails pressing sharp crescent moons in his right shoulder. Which is probably what Niall wanted, a distraction so Louis wouldn't think too much about what they were doing, who he was doing it with. Niall's such a great kisser is the thing. Knows how to move his tongue without it feeling like too much, how to pull back and peck at the side before sucking at Louis' bottom lip, using a little teeth to get Louis fired up even more. 

Christ, they'd kissed for ages when Louis' finally got rid of Olly to his own room, nodded to Alberto as he'd walked the few doors down to Niall's. He'd barely raised his hand to do that stupid "secret knock" that Harry and Niall both still bloody insisted on, even though there was little chance of fans being in the hall now that they took over most of a bloody _floor_. Niall had just dragged him in and kissed him so hard and so fast, it was almost as if Louis' had done another line of coke again. Kissing Niall had something fierce and almost needy twist inside his gut, sprout vines of want through his body until all he could do was give in to touch and press and _feel_. He really fucking likes kissing Niall. He kind of doesn't want to _stop_. Not when it's as good as this. 

Niall has other ideas, though.

Niall grins when he lifts away, leaving Louis' lips pouted and straining up to pull Niall back in. "This's nothing yet," 

Louis' hand tightens on the curve of Niall's hip as he arches his back a bit, thighs widening. He can't even think, can't even get a good breath in because this is _happening_. A moan catches in his throat as Niall rubs the tip of Louis' cock through the mess of lube at his rim. It makes Louis' eyes flutter shut, makes him feel hot all over.

They're really doing this.

It's probably the worst of ideas. Probably the stupidest thing Louis' done since he and Eleanor split up. Though the less he thinks on that the better. It's wrong in so many ways but Niall is right here and he's not making this a thing and it doesn't have to be. . . Louis knows it doesn't. Messing around with a mate. That's all this is. Letting himself feel things instead of bottling all that shit up. Liam'd be right proud if he knew. Probably not happy about it being with someone in the band, but he was too busy with Sophia and dealing with the fucking Zayn aftermath. It's not like any of them have a lot of time to worry all too much about the other when they're so busy just looking after themselves.

Except Niall.

Niall's different. Niall's the one that won't talk about it the most. Shuts down when certain things are mentioned. He's so much better at hiding how he really feels - not as good as Harry - but Harry's had a lot of practice. And Harry's still pissed off that Louis engaged, even though Louis himself knows he shouldn't have started anything on Twitter. Then there's Liam. 

Liam's been bloody hard to be around since it all went south with El. It's just that he and Sophia are sort of a package deal and it hurts a bit seeing how happy Liam still is, makes him think about all the good times the four of them had got together. That place they'd rented in LA. How he and El had ran back to their room and laughed under the covers after catching Liam balls deep in Sophia out on the bloody deck beside the pool where anyone could see. Then there's the whole Zayn thing and Liam doesn't want to get involved, is trying so hard to keep things positive and it pisses Louis off. Which leaves Niall and this new thing where they can hang out without it being too much. He fucking loves that about Niall. Niall makes everything better, even when it's all falling apart.

"God, you're so fucking pretty like this," Niall calls from somewhere above, Louis choking on a sound as the tip of his cock catches on Niall's rim. "Be so good, so fucking good," Niall says, breathing out fast, blue eyes hidden behind fluttering dark lashes. 

Louis feels like his face is on fire. "Thought you were teaching me something?" he teases.

"Teach? Fucking smart arse. I'll fucking - _ugh_!" Niall ends on a sigh. Louis has to close his eyes for a moment, can't look at Niall as the tip of his cock begins breaching Niall's hole. He takes in a breath to let it out slow just as Niall starts sinking down and oh. . . _oh, fuck_. He opens them again just as Niall seats himself fully, arse cheeks meeting the tops of Louis' thighs.

"Fucking, _christ_!" Niall curses, voice still all husky and fucked out from how deep he'd taken Louis, choking on him in some dirty fucking stall of that club. It's not an image Louis thinks he'll have out of his mind anytime soon. He's sure he'll replay that and maybe this more often than anything else he's relied on lately to get him off. 

Niall sits up taller, hands leaving Louis' skin to grip at his own thighs. He looks so bloody fit is the thing. He's not completely lean - eats too much and too well for that - but he's got barely a hint of fat on his body. All that golf and working out with Mark must do something. Louis still can't get rid of his little belly but he doesn't care all too much. Especially when Niall had sucked a ridiculous mark where it bulged out the tiniest amount above Louis' pants earlier, right before he stripped the cotton from Louis' legs. Louis' always thought Niall was good looking, always thought all of them in the band were, really. Yet there's something about Niall like this. He looks similar to how he had in that badly lit bathroom. Eyes closed, face lax and mouth open. His tongue a quick pink sweep from one side of his bruised red lips to the other. He's so fucking hot and Louis' knows he's taking his time. Knows that he's probably slowing this down so he doesn't overwhelm Louis. 

Too late for that.

Niall's not even moving, and it's like nothing Louis' felt before. It's ridiculously hot and tight and in a way it reminds him of his first time with Hannah - her first time, too. But there's something different about it. . . something _more_. Niall certainly doesn't smell the way Hannah did, or feel soft underneath his fingertips. Niall's more sweat and cologne and that stank the bus gets when they drive through parts of America for too long. Niall moves with confidence, slow and steady, getting himself off. Hannah certainly didn't know how to move her hips this well. . . the first time. 

Niall circles a loose fist around his own cock as he starts to rock forward, more grinding than anything is one thing that's _definitely_ different. That tug at the pit of Louis' gets stronger as he does so. Feels like there's too much or not enough air in his chest when Niall lifts right up, sliding back down, once, twice, finding his rhythm. Louis can't stop looking at Niall. The flushed rosy pink of his cheeks spreading down his neck, the bob of his throat as he swallows a moan. The arch of his back as he tries resting a hand behind him on Louis' leg, fingertips pressing hard into the meat of Louis' thigh. His eyes are focused, somewhere above Louis, but the same look he gets when he's learning a new chord on the guitar. Playing around with a riff for a new song. He's concentrating, lips pinched as Louis cock slips out when Niall lifts too high. His hand leaves Louis' leg for a moment, reaching back to slide Louis' cock home once more. 

It's so much. So much to be in Niall like this. Louis' fingers tight in the white bed linen, twitching to press his thumb to Niall's brow and smooth out the frown pinched in the middle of his forehead. Niall curses again, losing his rhythm and bending Louis' dick to his will, trying to keep him in where it's tight and hot and a lot of really ridiculous words that Louis' brain can't focus on. He's barely keeping it together, palms brushing over the surprisingly soft hair that covers Niall's legs. Every time it starts to feel good, Niall'll lose himself and Louis' cock will meet the cool air of the room and it'd be frustrating if the times he _was_ inside Niall weren't so fucking good.

Niall gives up though, with a huff of breath and lifting off of Louis with a, "budge up the bed a bit," adding a nod to the padded bed head near hidden under a mountain of cushions. It'll never fail to surprise Louis, that the more they pay for these rooms, these suites really, the more fucking cushions that come along with the bed linen. And the sofas. 

Louis presses his hands into the mattress and scoots himself backward as Niall knee walks after him. 

"Knees up, Lou," Niall's got a hand on his cock as says so, not really doing anything but holding it in a loose grip. Louis' mouth waters as he wonders how Niall would taste on his tongue. Would it feel different to how Cal's did? Would his come taste just as bad or worse with the sheer quantity of meat that Niall eats in his diet? Would he fuck Louis' throat a little or let him take his time, figure out how Niall liked it on his own terms? He's seconds away from telling Niall to give up on this sex thing and maybe let him lick him a bit, when it's too late. Niall's throwing a leg over Louis' lap, Louis planting his feet into the mattress and basically making a seat for Niall to lean against. Niall sinks down slow and it must be the pillows or the angle but he manages to fuck himself on Louis' cock a few good times without Louis' cock falling out. 

Niall smiles with his success, a "fuck, yeah," falling from his lips onto Louis' own as he leans forward, palms pressed to Louis' shoulders. His thumbs are sat in the hollow of Louis' collarbones, sweeping out over the ink that stains his skin there every so often. It's reverent almost, has Louis kissing Niall back with a little more passion. Has his fingertips sliding around Niall's waist, down over the curve of his bum to where he can feel the point where they're joined. It's wet and hot and when Niall starts fucking him again, Louis feels it cream up at his fingertips. It sounds obscene.

"So fucking good, knew you'd be so good," Niall whimpers, nipping at Louis' jawline, before kissing him hard once more. 

Louis' doesn't say anything in return. Can't really, he's so focused on breathing and not fucking coming already because Niall's right. It's so fucking _good_ like this. Being in Niall. Having Niall's warm hands on his skin, his lips kissing him just so. Louis mouths his way down the line of Niall's neck as he leans back, really bounces on Louis' cock like it's all he's ever wanted to do. He nips at the sharp jut of Niall's adam's apple and soothes it with his tongue as Niall moans and curses beneath his lips. It's so hot, even with the air on, because he knows Niall always has the thing set to bloody arctic, body temp running higher than most. This is different though, this is a heat building from the inside and filling him up like it's melting his bones. 

"Fucking, fuck. So fucking. . . oh shit," Niall's so _loud_ as he pleasures himself, Louis feeling a tad like a side participant here. Niall bouncing away on his cock while he wanks himself off at a leisurely pace in the tight fist his curled hand makes. He's even using Louis' legs as something to lean on when he rests a bit. Louis' can't have that. Can't' sit idly and well . . . enjoy himself, yeah, but just let Niall go at it on his own. 

He reaches up and rubs a thumb over Niall's nipple. Niall's eyelashes fluttering, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, moans, arching into Louis' touch. 

Niall's head drops back, exposing the long line of his throat. Louis leans in, replaces his fingertips with his mouth and swirls his tongue around the tightened bud. It's different to a girl, not as big and harder to get his teeth around, but he does. Niall's free hand curls around the back of Louis head, tugs at Louis' hair, pulling him closer. So apparently, this is a thing for Niall then. Niall moans something like Louis' name above as Louis slides his hand up over Louis' waist

 

 

...FEEEEELINGS in LA with the lads - NY - rooftop party? porn star chick? texts niall, and hten back in London hotel with niall after partying together... 

Oh god, it's the cool break of daylight outside the stupidly large windows. It's Niall's face and watching Niall's head drop to the bed, the play of muscles in his back as Louis fucks in again and again. The contrast in Louis' tanned skin and the slightly paler version of Niall's own where they meet in the middle. It's having to look away, look down and watch as he sinks into Niall, again and again. His hands near white knuckled where he holds Niall's arse apart. The rhythmic shift of Niall's arm as he tugs at his cock, balls slapping against Louis' thighs as he near bounces them both off the bed. He's never felt this hard, felt like sex would last forever like it does right now. Niall's fucking _mewling_ this sound that can be explained away as nothing else. He's stopped calling Louis' name. Stopped cursing. Just these breathy _sounds_ punched from his lungs as Louis fucks harder and harder, not knowing how to stop. It feels too good. Feels like too much.

He's so fucking close but he can't. . . he needs to see Niall, needs to see that Niall feels this as much as he does. He pulls out and it's a cold jolt of recycled air on his cock that has him blinking fast. Niall moans, fingers slipping between his legs, tips pressing to the puffy, pink skin of his rim, creamy remnants of lube bubbling. He's so fucking desperate to be filled and Louis needs to see him fall apart. It's what has him pushing at Niall's hip, sending him crashing to the bed. He gathers Niall's knees up under his forearms as he leans over where he's got Niall spread out. Niall's covered in this film of sweat, drops of it rolling down one cheek from where it's beaded up at his hairline. Louis wants to lick it but there's so much more to see. There's no more blue to Niall's eyes, just these dark glassy circles staring up and slowly blinking as he gets a grip on Louis' cock, lines him up after Louis basically ruts between his legs. 

There's this sound of relief from both of them when Louis finally slides back in. Niall hooking his own arms under his knees so Louis can lean over him proper. Louis sinks his hands into the mattress on either side of Niall's head and starts off slow. It's not that he doesn't want to move faster, chase this fucking orgasm that's been just out of reach for what feels like a forever now. It's just that he wants to look. Needs to see Niall fall apart one more time. Needs to see it this time, not just feel it as Niall tightens around his cock like he did before. 

"Your knee?" Louis asks, stopping for a moment because he hasn't exactly remembered to be gentle with Niall for a while now. 

Niall shrugs as much as he can where he's lying against the messed up duvet. 

"Okay," Louis answers, a shiver running down his spine as Niall shifts beneath him. "Okay."

He can't look away from Niall and Niall's looking up at him just as intensely. Staring so hard and licking at his lips, they're near chapped he's done it so much. It makes Louis want to kiss him again so he does. It's nothing more than a scrape of lip against lip but it makes Louis feel closer. Makes him feel even more connected than having his cock up Niall's arse does. He's beginning to wonder if it's kissing in general that he loves or if it's kissing Niall that's all the difference. He can't ponder on it too long though, not with how there's this ache building in the back of his thighs, this tightness in his chest and stomach that has his toes curling. Has him reaching between them, sliding his hand through the mess Niall made on his stomach before, linking his fingers with Niall's, sliding around Niall's cock. 

Niall bites at Louis' jaw when he starts to jack Niall off to the echo of his own thrusts. He's so fucking close, his skin is buzzing with it. Niall's making these high pitched sounds and Louis wants to hear more. 

"C'mon, fucking _c'mon_!" he curses at Niall's ear, nipping at the lobe as he feels Niall losing it. Niall fucking sighs as he comes in a short, shuddery pulse. Hot come rolls down over their joined fingers - dribble of a thing really - which isn't surprising considering how hard Niall shot off before. 

Niall's hand falls away and Louis sits back on his aching thighs, sliding out of the tight clutch of Niall's hole and pulling the latex off his cock fast. He tosses it somewhere behind him, not really giving a fuck where, not when he's got his hand around himself, a tight fist to jerk mostly at the head as his resolve weakens down to nothing. Niall's lying there, panting with his cheeks, neck and chest painted a rosy hue, only tainted by the tell tale flakes of drying come and the new splashes from seconds ago. He's got a shaking hand just above his belly button, fingertips drawing through the dark hair and sticky white, lifting them slow from his skin.

"On me, yeah? Here," he demands with a hint of a grin tugging at one side of his lips. There's an echo of it in his eyes that has Louis groaning, rocking up into his fist faster and faster until he's there. He can't stop looking at Niall as he comes, shooting so hard it's splattering up over Niall's hand, his chest and a splotch of it over his right nipple. Niall groans, twisting his body up as he wipes his hand, palm flat against his skin over the mess of it. Louis' shaking as he slows down, squeezes his foreskin tight over the head where there's still a little jizz at the head. Fuck.

Fucking _fuck_.

aaaaand more feelings and louis realising he LIKES niall and banter and maybe ending in caring for niall when he's ill in ..DENMARK HORSEN chest infection stealing jackets the towel liam put around nialls shoulders barcelona weekend for alfredos birthday twitter banter   
and somehow someone either making him admit it or louis and niall not really admitting to anything BIG but that its just not fucking around and seeing where things go from there because it'd have to be an EASY talk with niall

glasto? louis heads to LA after helsinki concert. niall gets with laura maybe?


	8. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another OH A THING HAPPENED THIS COULD TOTALLY BE ANGST FILLED FIC and then no canon hard. Louis/Harry

He's just touched down in Dublin again when the news hits. It's not as if he didn't know it was coming. He'd given the okay for it, management and PR had agreed, and more importantly, she'd given the final say. 

He didn't want to know what it looked like. Even went as far as saying that out loud, but apparently someone down the ladder in the those that know pile of their PR team failed to get that message. Louis was tired, following Liam to the waiting van without much thought, just one foot after the other. He switched his phone back from airplane mode and shoved it on silent the moment his notifications started loudly coming to life. 

Liam was near buzzing in his seat when Louis joined him in the van. He was quiet, but his smile and the way his knee kept bouncing were signs enough Liam was happy to be headed back to the stadium for a quick soundcheck before their concert that night. Louis hit him in the shoulder and Liam apologised by bumping him back, his twitchy energy easing as their driver rolled out, the other lads van right behind them. 

Louis ignored the street life as they drove into town. He was a little bone tired, dreaming about when they'd get back to the hotel and the nap he'd be having before their show later. He scrolled through his emails, deleting shit and flagging those to come back to, when he saw it. 

The stuff about his dad was wrong, but that was fine, there was always a little lie among any truth that was published about them. Even with a few months now of living it privately, it was still hard to see the words in print. The three words he never really thought he'd have to for a long while.

Relationship status: Single.

He slumped back into the chair, even his seatbelt feeling too tight a hold on his chest. It was stupid how seeing it in print made him feel. They'd broken up months ago and Louis was fine with it. He was. So why did this feel like it was tearing at old wounds previously closed up, ripping at them anew? His whole body _hurt_ and his heart felt like it was breaking all over again. He felt like _he_ was breaking all over again and it was shit. It was shit and it shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"You alright?" Liam asked, his hand warm on Louis arm, fingertips circling light over the loop of rope inked there. 

Louis didn't answer, just tilted his phone in Liam's direction. He knew Liam had seen it when he pulled Louis into his side, stretching his arm around Louis shoulders and hauling him in close. He whispered Louis name almost on a sigh as Louis curled into Liam's touch, needing Liam to hold him together while it felt like he was shattering apart. 

"Does he know it's coming out today?" Liam asked softly, the silence between them only broken by the radio up front talking about their show in Croke Park the night before. 

Louis shook his head, "No. Maybe. We don't talk about that stuff anymore. And he has. . . He has his own things to worry about,"

Liam tutted because he always did when it came to them. When it came to the two who at one stage, couldn't hide their feelings from anyone, they shone so bright. Who now, were such professionals at covering things up, even Louis wondered what was acting for the public and what was truth anymore.

"You could-" Liam started, but Louis cut him off with a quick nipple twist.

"No. He knows just like you all do. My problems aren't his outside of the band. He made that well clear."

Liam tugged him in closer and made another sound, this one more like acceptance as it rumbled through his chest. Louis closed his eyes and concentrated on the steady beat of Liam's heart under his ear, one that knew too well how Louis felt. 

Louis gave himself until they next got out the van to feel awful, to hate his part in how things ended. To wonder if he could have changed anything to stop things falling apart.

The sky opened up as they stepped out of the van and Louis pretended it was the rain he could feel on his cheeks. Even if it tasted salty and warm when he licked over his lips. Who else was to know.

\ \ \


	9. A Hand to Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2012 was a great year for me writing basically one long FIC (ahem Distance) and then having FEELINGS and then realising tin hatting was never going to be my thing and really not liking that I ever had those thoughts back then really.
> 
> So a Louis/Harry FIC filled with likeable!eleanor, homophobia, gaybashing! stanbeingawesome! harrybeinglovely! liambeingabsolutelybrilliant! and louisbeingbrokenandbeingfixedagainbylurrrrrrrve!

_I’m bored, boo .x_

_no yr not._

_Yeeeeeeees i am!_

_Do sum shots w zayn_

_Fine. But im drunk txting u l8r .x_

Lou giggled in the most manly of manners as he placed his phone on the pillow beside him, snuggling down into the covers with a sigh. It was weird being the one back at the hotel all alone. Well, not completely alone, Niall and Liam were watching some movie marathon in their room or doing a twitcam or something like it -- they’d probably be that bored or tired by now to play with the fans. Louis? Well Louis was here on bed rest because he’d coughed once today.

Fine, it might have been more than once – they’d had to pause three interviews today because of his coughing fits - but still, he didn’t think it was fair that even if he did have the beginnings of a cold that he had to stay back while the remainder of the lads went out and partied. Louis had started the night off with Liam and Niall, relaxing on the bed with a rather large bowl of popcorn between all three of them. It was nice, until Liam had given him too many frown filled glances if he sniffed or blew his nose and didn’t use the antibacterial gel Liam had just happened to have in his side drawer and just happened to give to Louis when he asked for a tissue. One roll of his eyes and Liam’s “we’re eating out of that bowl too you know,” and that was the end of Louis even attempting to risk their company.

He’d flounced out of the room with an exaggerated “I know when I’m not wanted!” much to Niall’s murmurs of annoyance as the popcorn spilt onto the bed in Louis rush to get up. Louis didn’t know why he was upset – it wasn’t like Niall hadn’t eaten off their beds or even the carpet at one time or another always citing the “five second rule” when he did. Louis didn’t really mind – he was sharing with Harry as usual and was fairly certain that young Harold would at the very least be willing to get Louis a cup of honey’d tea if he trained his puppy dog eyes on him. He might even get a snuggle while they watched whatever movie it was that Harry would let him choose. Because Harry was good like that and Louis would already have been doing all these things with Harry if Zayn and Josh hadn’t already taken up Harry’s time with some sight-seeing and dinner out.

When he got back to their room, he found Harry putting on his ‘good’ shoes in an outfit that didn’t say he was staying in. It had a frown tug on Louis’ lips and his stomach doing some strange twisty thing that Louis didn’t want to acknowledge. It wasn’t as if he were jealous of Harry going out. It wasn’t that he wanted him all to himself – they were best friends, the very best even – but Harry wasn’t his. Not like that – even if Louis had been tossing around the idea of it more lately, of wanting more than just the friendship that they had. He forced himself not to think on it, striding across the room to the double bed he’d shared with Harry the night before when they’d fallen asleep watching Finding Nemo.

“Decided to go and leave me then?” Louis had asked falling back onto the bed, “All on my own and so sick. What would the fangirls say if they knew one half of Larry Stylinson was leaving the other to die of pnuemonia all for the sake of a pint?” he threw his arm over his eyes for impact and sighed as dramatically as possible.

Louis didn’t have to have look to know Harry was rolling his eyes at him. He’d done so for most of the afternoon as Louis had whined on and on to Paul that he wasn’t really sick – well, not yet. He hoped Harry didn’t notice as he discreetly pinched his nose, a sneeze dying to break through. It popped his hears five seconds later as his body forced the tickle in his nostrils out anyway. Harry did notice the spluttering noise that came out of Louis’ pursed lips.

The bed dipped down beside his feet, a cool hand wrapped around his ankle. “Do you want me to stay and play nurse for you, Lou?” Harry’s tone was sincere, despite his earlier chuckle at Louis’ poorly covered sneezing. “I will you know,”

Louis pouted and considered it for all of a second. It wasn’t often they had a night off and had Paul’s permission to go out. In reality, Louis knew he was coming down with something and they still had two more shows to do while they were in town, so. “No. I’ll be fine,” he whispered, because it felt like admitting defeat and Louis hated that.

“You sure?” Harry asked again, his thumb rubbing over Louis’ ankle bone in a way that should not have been a turn on – though it was and that was strange in itself. Though lately, any touch that lingered too long from Harry seemed to say a lot more than “I’m so glad you’re my mate,” and verged into “if you let it, we could be something more.” But Louis couldn’t let it, because there was Eleanor and there was the fact they were in a band and even if he had maybe thought about the way Harry’s lips formed around words and maybe tossed off to similar thoughts of what those same lips would do around his cock – that meant nothing. Nothing Louis was willing to dwell on.

So Louis nodded, biting at his lip to stifle a moan because Harry was touching him, which wasn’t unusual they did it all the time. Lately though, there was a difference and Louis still wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that to himself. Especially not to Harry.

He had a feeling that Harry knew what he was doing anyway, with or without Louis acknowledging it.

It was probably why the touching thing had escalated of late. Eleanor had been busy with exams and they’d been busy with touring and Harry had been busy distracting Louis with just how easy it was to be with him. Louis groaned, the idea of actually working out what it was that he wanted or didn’t want only adding to the slight buzz at the base of his neck that signified a headache on its way. He hoped that’s what Harry would take it as – because he really wasn’t prepared to discuss anything about anything with him yet either.

But still, Harry’s thumb stroked small circles into that soft area of flesh just under Louis’ ankle bone and it was nice. So nice. “Like, I don’t need to go out Louis. I’d be happy to stay with you,” Then there was that stupid deep voice of his and that huskiness that Harry had toward the end of a day when they’d done nothing but talk for hours. Louis bit his lip, he wasn’t going to moan or anything silly like that. Maybe it was better if Harry left and they had some time apart.

“I’d probably have more fun here with you anyway, always do when it’s just us,”

And there it was. That little extra that he kept hinting at that drove Louis insane with questioning everything he thought he knew about himself and what he thought he knew about their friendship. “No, no you can go. I’ll just be a burden anyway, won’t look too attractive to any birds if you’ve got my snot on your shoulder,” he said, not moving his arm because he can feel his face burning up and maybe he can get away with the flush on his skin being the start of a fever or something.

“I don’t want any bird,” Harry’s palm slid up Louis’ leg slowly and even through the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms, Louis could feel the heat of Harry’s skin as he did so. He paused right on Louis’ knee, fingertips curling into that space between Louis’ legs and Louis was near hyperventilating at the extra touch. “I’ll just get in Josh’s road anyhow, I’ll tell them-“

“No!” Louis yelped, not really paying much attention to what Harry was saying, more to the fact that if Harry shifted his hand a little higher and to the left he’d hit where Louis’s prick was already at half mast. “Really, Haz, I’ll be fine. Go, you never get to go out and at least it’s legal for you to buy drinks here.”   
[add more here]

“Christ you’re wet, filthy wet for it, how much of that lube did you use, eh?”

“Listen to you, fuck Lou, it sounds like a pussy. Is that what it you have Louis? Got a pussy here, all wet and warm and tight waiting for me to fuck?” Harry was almost babbling, his lips pressed against Louis’ skin that moments ago was prickled with heat but it only took one word for it to turn cold.

“Mmm, fuck yeah, I’d fuck your pussy so hard, fuck you so all you could hear was how filthy wet I was making you, I’d make it so good, oh, so fucking good,” Harry says, a second finger joining the first so that Louis now has four inside him. The sounds coming from having his arse spread wide open are loud and Louis wishes he could block them out. Wishes that he had the strength to say something – anything – because this isn’t getting him off anymore.

Harry laps at Louis skin, his tongue dipping into the groove of Louis collarbone, always in motion over any part of Louis he can reach. He’s mouthing at the lobe of Louis’ ear, nipping at the curve of his shoulder, sucking over Louis pulse point on his neck. Harry shifts in closer, fitting his cock in the tight space that’s been created from how he’s got his arm under Louis’ thigh, pulling it up high against Louis body. He starts moving then, grunting into each thrust of his hips and press of his fingers combined with Louis, twisting and spreading Louis open.

If he notices how still Louis has become with his words, Harry doesn’t show it. He just continues rutting up against Louis’ body, slipping two more of his own fingers in when Louis pulls his out. Harry is panting up against his ear – too far gone to realise that Louis has turned his head, tried to block out all that Harry is saying. It doesn’t matter now though, Louis’ is shutting down, blocking everything out, his cock going soft against his stomach no matter how Harry twists and pressed inside him. Harry’s voice has become this buzz at his side, but there is one word that keeps shining through like a spotlight into Louis’ head.

Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.

Harry comes eventually, his mouth open and teeth scraping down over the round of Louis’ shoulder. He rolls onto his back after a giggle, leaving a smattering of kisses over Louis’ skin before he does. Harry’s fingers slide free of Louis’ body, and Louis wants to cry with relief. Maybe Harry will leave now, go back to his bed on the other side of the room and they can forget this ever happened. Harry is drunk, obviously not drunk enough to have problems getting it up, but if Louis doesn’t mention it maybe Harry won’t either.

His hopes fade as Harry’s fingers continue exploring Louis body, tracing cool wet lines over Louis’ hipbone and then onto the soft flesh of his belly where Harry had spilled hot and sticky. Louis’ lays still as Harry almost paints pictures with the cooling mess there. His fingers sliding in and out, in patterns almost familiar – like letters to words that he can't express out loud. Louis just wants him to go, hates that it had to happen like this when he likes Harry but now – he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to look at Harry again.

“Louis?” Harry whispers – which sounds ridiculously small considering the filth that was just leaving his mouth. His fingers slip down to where Louis’ cock lays completely soft on his thigh. 

“Did you get off, babe?” Harry touches him then, just one finger stroking up slow over his length and it doesn’t even get a reaction from Louis’ prick.

“Yeah,” Louis chokes out, the lie sticking to the roof of his mouth. He can feel it, feel everything he’s pushed inside so deep rising to the surface. It’s making his breath come fast, as if his lungs don’t want to fill properly anymore and if he doesn’t get away from Harry soon, he’ll never be able to push it all back down again.

“Oh, good,” Harry says, a hint of uncertainty in his tone and that’s enough really to have Louis go into complete emotional shut down.

“Thanks, Haz. I need to go clean up. Think I could have my bed back when I return?” and he sits up, turning his back to Harry as he slips off the bed and heads to the bathroom.

“Okay,” Louis can almost hear Harry nodding his head, “How am I going to go to sleep without you to snuggle?” he says with a laugh, that sounds more like it’s out of nerves than any real attempt at humor.

Louis shrugs, knowing that Harry will be able to see it in the dim light that he’s created by opening the bathroom door and flicking the light on. “You’ll find a way.” And it’s cold and he hates that he might hurt Harry with these words but, he can’t go back and sleep beside Harry. Not like this. So he ignores the sigh that comes from behind him as he closes the door. 

It’s only after that he feels like he can breathe again and even that is short lived as he catches sight of himself in the mirror. His hair is like a birdsnest from where Harry was tugging at it before. His lips are all puffy and bruised from every nip of Harry’s teeth. The skin on his chest and neck is littered with little marks – sure to turn into bruises and then there’s his belly and between his thighs. He’s covered in Harry and the lube had turned frothy so it looks almost like come too, as it drips down his legs.

Louis’ stomach twists and he can’t help but stand up on his tip toes, placing one foot on the tub and turning his body in a way so he can see exactly where Harry was inside him. God, he looks a mess there aswell. Hole all red and puckered, remnants of lube, bubbling almost white around the edges and then he can hear it, the words in his head that he’s fought so hard to push down. To forget and forget and forget but they’re there. They’re always there.

_“Such a girl, Tommo!”_

_“Can’t even get hard for one can you!”_

_“Such a fucking pussy, got a pussy instead of a cock don’t you, mate?”_

_“Bet you want some cock in your pussy don’t you,”_

_“Fucking faggot!”_

He gets into the shower then and sits, curled in on himself on the floor till long after the water has turned cold.

By the time he finally feels as numb on the inside as he is on the outside, he finds Harry has moved. He can see the younger boy lying naked, spread eagled on his bed with his mouth open and snoring. It’s something that is so normal for Louis to see that it settles the nerves in his chest and he makes it to his own bed without much effort. Louis puts one of the dry towels down over the mess on the bed and wraps himself up so tight in the duvet until finally, he feels safe enough to succumb to sleep.

 

Harry asks about last night. Louis fobs him off and they have interviews all day so he makes sure to stick to liam like glue because if there’s one thing liam is good for – its being the larry stylinson cock block that management love and even though there’s no real reason for it this time. Liam says nothing about it, just ruffles Louis hair in the first interview and by the end fo the day he’s almost carrying Louis, as the affects from the night before become this thing that Louis is slowly crumbling under – especially when some dick reporter asks trouble in paradise with he and harry sitting so far apart. He shouts at the guy, ranting about having to keep answering the same question over and over, he has a girlfriend for fucks sakes? Doesnt that mean anything to anyone? And he storms out.

He phones El, begs her to come out, can she please please please and he wont tell her what’s wrong and she promises to get on the next flight. Now he says, i need you now.

He ignores the band that night – harry especially and begs paul to get him a separate room. He has both the keys for these which is highly unusual because he and harry ALWAYS share or at least have had keys to each others rooms since the very beginning and he ignores harry later when he bangs on the door begging to be let in and then liam after that, saying he’s there if Louis wants to talk

He says nothing, just burrows under the mountain of blankets he put on the bed, clinging to his phone as he waits for updates on where Eleanor is. He deletes each of the messages from the boys as they come in, ends their calls as his phone vibrates their individual alert tones. He can feel everything closing in again but he’s moderately safe here in his little caterpillar like cocoon and it’s not until he hears Eleanor’s voice outside the door that he realises how long it’s been since he moved. His body relaxes as she comes in – she’s got a key from the front desk and she just curls in there with him, around him and he sleeps with the comfort of someone who wants nothing from him, who knows everything about him as she cards her fingers through his hair and he breathes.

It’s easy to avoid harry from there on out. El does such a good job of being that human barrier between them. She asks him about harry once, did someting finally change? Did he talk to harry? And he bottles up so quickly that she changes the subject, though her eyes reflect every question that’s gone unsaid. It’s one week and then two and on the third she tells him she has to go back, she has uni and there’s stuff she has to take care of and as much as she likes doing this for him, being there for him. “Don’t you think you should just – talk to him? It’s harry lou, he’s your best friend and you’re pushing him so far away you might not even have that if you don’t do someting about it.

I cant. He wont understand and he’ll hate me

No he won’t, he loves you Louis, even i can see that. Just talk to him.

So el goes and when he gets back from seeing her off at the airport harry is in his room waiting for him.

Harry talks and he sounds so broken so hurt and it’s louis’ fault. “i’m not sorry it happened but i’m sorry it made you feel this way. I’m sorry if i took advantage of you lou. And i hate that it’s forced us so far apart. We can forget about it if you want. You have El and i – i can deal with that i can, i have and 

El is just my friend harry and its not you that should be sorry, its me. Its just. 

And harry pets the bed and gets him to sit but even then it’s not enough. Pillow fort? Harry asks and Louis nods, smiling properly at his friend for the first time in what feels like a forever. They busy themselves using all the many pillows that this particular hotel suite has to offer – even the ones up in the shelves that no one ever uses. They stretch the blankets over the top, take the cushions even from the couch and it’s only when they are safely ensconced inside with the lamp on the floor between the beds that he feels at ease. It’s not enough though and to harry’s surprise, he pulls harry close as they lay down inside, lou the little spoon because he can’t look at harry and tell him everything.

And once he starts talking he can’t stop. It started with his dad – calling him a girl when he liked singing with his hair brush or he’d beg his mum to paint his toes when she did her own. He figured out that pissed his dad off so he stopped doing that but there was one time when his mum had a new cd playing and they were dancing around the kitchen – Louis singing loud using the spoon he’d been allowed to lick after helping his mum bake a cake and the arguing started.

Making him into a harry hoofter woman!

And plates smashing and then his dad was gone.

He never baked with his mum again, didn’t sing – not even to himself for a long time afterward.

Then his mum met his new dad and they had girls and his new dad would just ruffle his hair when he found Louis letting the girls put make up on his face or paint his nails because he wanted them all to be happy and if the girls were happy then his dad was happy and that’s all that mattered.

Then it was football in sixth form and he’s actually pretty decent and his stepdad came to every game and would take him down the pub for crisps and a sneaky pint as they watched whatever match was on the tv together after. One time he gets tripped and falls, and the opposing side are these cruel cunts that are known to be dirty players and they spit this vitriol at him and it sticks when it shouldn’t. It’s worse when he’s coming back from a mates place one town over and some of the boys from the match are there and they corner him – taking the piss and when he tries to laugh it off they get nasty, they’re drunk and for the first time Louis had straightened his hair, and they call him a faggot and he gets hit but stan is there and they fuck off just before it starts getting out of hand because two cops walk around the corner.

It takes another year for Louis to admit to Hannah that he likes her but - doesn’t want her. She understands and she stays with him anyway because she knows about the thing with stan and she just wants him to be safe. They break up eventually but its mutual and he’s going to try out for xfactor because stan and Hannah believe in him and his step dad even says he should try something apart from singing in the bloody shower and wasting all the water trying to get a bloody note right. They’ve seen him in grease and he’s made a few youtube vids that he’s shared with Stan and he’s so astounded that he gets in but he never, ever counted on harry.

Harry makes him want all the things he’s pushed away, the parts of him that he denied because everytime he’d let them show he got hurt or bad things happened so it’s why he let’s management suggest a girlfriend when the whole flirting thing with harry becomes something he does naturally because he’s so safe with these boys. He reads some shit on twitter and it forces his hand because this will end everything if he lets it – if he let’s what he wants with harry happen it’ll mean the end of the band, the end of making everyone happy and he cant do that. But he wants to, he really wants to because pushing harry away over the last month has hurt and he hates the fact that he’s turned into one of the people he was hiding from. Treating harry like harry had done something wrong when it wasn’t that at all.

End with harry being all comforting and lovely and they build up their relationship slow. Kisses and not so obvious dates and Louis tells Eleanor and she’s so happy for him and they’ll continue on until he’s ready for more. They do things as a group. When the tour ends and they go back home it gets easier – and harry doesn’t push. The thing is it gets’s harder- literally because Louis does want more but harry always seems to shut him down with soft kisses to his cheek or squeezes of his hand before they go to sleep with harry wrapped around lou. He takes things into his own hand one morning, blowing harry awake and then harry’s all nerves – tell me what you want, tell me how to make you feel good and he sucks on lou for a while and his fingers brush between lou’s legs and he spreads them and tells harry to touch him there and maybe some rimming and then fingering of course and then the fucking with lou on top – you control it babe, i want it to be about you and then they fuck and its rainbows and butterflies and all the good things

And Louis gets counselling and if he leans into harry’s touch more during interviews or makes heart eyes at him during concerts but still won’t hold his hand in public – it doesn’t matter because harry said he will wait, as long as it takes for Louis to be ready. Then harry is singing one of their new songs and its stupid really – one of those wanky tunes management has them sing so girls will still throw panties and bras and more at them but it’s the way harry isn’t even looking at him, but his fingers twitch at his side – right near where Louis is behind him that has Louis moving forward, slipping his hand into harry’s and harry’s smiling brighter than he ever has before. Liam takes over harry’s part when it’s obvious harry is fucking up the words but not because he and lou have figured out something hilarious to go in their place and when harry bends down to lou’s ear to whisper “Right there, love?” Lou can only nod and smile and whisper back “Yeah, yeah I am.”


	10. Housework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh those glory days when Harry and Louis had a flat and everything was innuendo filled and fandom was a mostly sane place. Canon

“Lou!”

“Louis, you lazy git, where are you?”

Harry was seriously going to blow his stack if Louis didn’t answer soon. The absolute arse was in, and Harry knew it for several reasons. First, the shoes he had to kick out of the way of the door after having to put half the groceries down when knocking with his foot for ten minutes had gone unanswered. Second, the half-eaten bowl of cereal and the puddle of milk sat on the kitchen table. Third, the lack of space on the bench to even put the groceries let alone the half-eaten take out containers in the fridge and the juice with a dribble of orange left in it.

Then it was even more obvious as he stormed through the living room and picked up three of Lou’s discarded bloody braces draped over the back of the sofa. He headed down the hall, annoyance brewing hot and heavy in his stomach only to see the bathroom door open, steam still evaporating with Lou’s clothes _beside_ the hamper they kept in there, the toothpaste uncapped.

“Louis!” Harry said through gritted teeth. This was getting ridiculous, at first Harry hadn’t really minded Lou’s lackadaisical - at best - approach to cleanliness. As the weeks went on and Louis stopped doing even the bare minimum that Harry had asked him to help out with, it really pushed Harry to the limit. He turned to walk out and saw the bloody bog roll had one, _one_ square of tissue barely hanging onto the cardboard.

“Right. Just bloody _right_ ,” Harry whispered to himself, his body flushed with heat and fingertips itching to – _Christ_ just grab hold of Lou and get him to clean some of this shit up!

Harry stalked toward Lou’s bedroom. They may have moved in together and the flirting had gone on for _far_ too long and there was that one time they snogged after a concert – but they’d yet to actually put a label to what they were. What they could be. Hence, separate bedrooms. Not that it mattered, Harry supposed, most of the time Lou crept in with him anyway and the only things still in Lou’s room were the clean clothes Harry put there after laundering them. Christ, he was just so _annoyed_ at him! It wasn’t hard to pick up after yourself, Harry’s mum had drilled that into his head long ago. He opened the door and tripped over the still wet towel lying just a ways inside the doorframe.

“Have a nice trip, Hazza?” Louis laughed, moving to stand as he pulled up the pair of green cotton boxers with the white owls all over them Harry had just bought for himself the day before, treating Harry to the briefest of brief glimpses of Louis’ white arse cheeks.

Bloody tease, how was Harry ever going to be able to wear them again with the sight of Louis in them burned into his retinas? And more so, it probably meant that Lou didn't have any of his own clean underwear to put on, so he had to steal Harry’s.

Harry saw red.

He dropped most of Louis’ things he’d picked up on his way down to confront his friend and advanced on the man in front of him with quick steps. “You think you’re so bloody funny, don’t you?”

Louis stopped laughing, the smile faltering on his pink lips as he took in the thunderous glare Harry was giving him. “Was a joke, Haz.”

Harry stepped forward again, right into Louis’ personal space, one finger prodding at Lou’s bare chest, pushing him backwards with every word and press of finger. “Real funny, Lou. Everything’s a joke to you isn’t it? Well I’m not bloody laughing anymore!”

Harry finished just as the backs of Louis’ legs met the bed, Sending Lou tumbling, arms flailing for a second before he landed. Harry followed, chasing Lou up the bed until Louis had no further left to go. Harry was now straddling Lou’s hips, his hands holding Louis’ wrists hard on the mattress. “Is it still funny now, Lou?”

Harry was near panting from how lightly Louis took everything – along with how strangely arousing it was to be over Lou like this. The feel of Louis thin wrist bones under his hands, the pulse of Lou’s blood a fast staccato under his fingertips. He leaned forward, lips a breath from Louis’ and stared him straight in the eye. “Always the comedian, you. Got to have the last laugh.” The tip of his nose brushed Lou’s, “not laughing now though, are you?”

Lou’s eyes were so dilated there was hardly any colour left in them at all. Fuck, if this fact didn’t turn Harry’s anger into something just as animalistic. They’d played around long enough. If Lou couldn’t take a hint then maybe Harry would have to use his annoyance to push this point with Louis a little further.

 

“These,” Harry spoke softly, his fingertip running underneath the thick elastic band of Lou’s pants, “are mine.”

Louis licked his lips, making them even shinier than before, nodding slightly, “You can, you can have them back, Harry.”

Harry smiled, shifting off Lou’s body so he could tug the material down Lou’s legs, delighting a little in how Louis’ skin puckered into goose flesh from the first rough touch. “Lift your legs up and get them off for me then, won’t you?” Harry asked once he’d pulled the fabric down to Lou’s knees.

Louis pulled his long legs up, knees to his chest, tugging at the material only getting stuck last minute on his big toe, hands too shaky to get them off with ease. Harry sighed, reaching up to push Lou’s hand out of the way to grab at his underwear, sliding into the space between Lou’s legs as he slowly let them back down onto the bed around Harry.

“You and that mouth, Tomlinson. You get yourself in so much trouble with that mouth,” Harry said in almost a whisper, scrunching the material up in one hand as the other stroked back and forth over Lou’s thigh. The hairs were fine here, almost nonexistent on Louis’ golden skin. He was so warm and pliant under Harry’s touch, it made Harry ache to explore more, every part of Louis that previously he thought would only ever remain fantasies in his head. Even though Harry had no idea really where all this dominating behaviour was coming from, he was becoming all the more turned on by Lou’s acceptance of it all – eagerness even, if how Lou simply followed every one of Harry’s requests was anything to go by. Maybe all the looks and teases that Harry had considered only being interest from his end weren’t so one-sided after all.

Lou shuddered under Harry’s fingertips as they skated closer to where Lou’s prick – long and thickening as Harry stared – grew all the more interested. Christ, even his prick was alluring. Harry’s mouth watered, his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth almost as if it had a mind of its own wanting to reach out and survey every last hidden secret Lou’s body had to offer. Harry found himself leaning forward, sliding his knees back as his breath quickened, blunt fingernails scratching through the tidy thatch of coarse hair at the base of Lou’s prick as it grew and flushed with colour the nearer Harry came.

“Please, _pleaseplease_.” Louis’ tremulous voice broke through Harry’s almost hypnotic state and he suddenly remembered why he was here. That it wasn't just about finally getting Lou’s dick in his mouth.

Harry blinked twice before straightening, his hand stilling on Lou’s skin just out of reach and instead, leaned in close. He breathed in deep, relishing in the fresh clean scent and all that was Louis underneath as he pressed his lips in the slightest of grazes on the trail leading from Lou’s stomach up and up until he reached the middle of Lou’s chest. He still couldn’t believe that he was here, doing this with Lou and all it took was a bloody square of bog roll to change everything.

 

“Please, Haz, please just-” Lou said with a shudder that Harry could feel vibrate against the tip of his tongue as he circled the tightening flesh around Lou’s nipple. “Oh fuck, Harry. . . Harry!”

Harry smiled as he nipped at the hard bud with his teeth, one hand coming up to pinch at the other. His fist tightening on the ball of material in his hand almost to the point where his fingernails were about to pierce the flesh on the other side, right through the cotton. Harry rocked back on his heels and took in the sight of Lou before him. Prick red and shiny at the tip, the tiniest pearl of precome showing just inside the slit, chest flushed with colour, nipples wet with Harry’s own saliva. Lou’s hands remained at his side, fists clutching at the sheets below. It was as Harry truly paid attention, he realised it was his bloody shirt he’d been looking for the past two days that was scrunched in Lou’s left hand and he remembered - as much as this was going to be a pleasurable event - Lou still needed to be taught a lesson.

“My shirt too, Louis? You can’t keep your bloody hands off my things, can you?”

Louis knuckles whitened on the hand that held a familiar chequered blue and white pattern. “They – _oh_ , they’re a part of you, I need, I, _fuck_ , just. Harry!” he called out Harry’s name with a sharp cry at the end and Harry paused from where he’d slowly, ever so slowly began to stroke Louis’ cock. His mouth stilling from where he’d been sucking at a particularly wonderful spot on Lou’s neck, licked it twice and then looked up. Lou’s eyes were shut tight, his mouth open, lips red and puffy, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, torn a little on the left. Had he teased Lou so much that Harry’d made him bite through his own skin?

 

Harry’s dick, which had virtually been hard the moment he’d spotted Louis in his shorts and nothing else, twitched in his pants. For the first time since climbing on the bed, Harry realised he was the only one still fully clothed.

A fact to deal with later.

“-and you make me, you make me feel, and I just want, Christ, I want you all the time, Haz,”  
Harry blinked and realised that all the time he’d been taking Louis’ expression in, he’d managed not to hear a single word of what Louis was babbling. And babbling he was.

“You’re always touching me and then you get that look, and I want to kiss that look off your face, or suck it out of your cock or just let you fuck it into me but I-” Harry held two fingers over Lou’s lips, stilling any further rambling. Louis finally opened his eyes and Harry sat back.

“All these things, you say all these things now when I’m supposed to be annoyed at you for leaving your shit everywhere. Can’t have you being all wonderful when this is supposed to be–” he trailed off, the sight of Louis laid out, bare and needy taking his breath away. Oh, the things he wanted to do, the things he obviously could do if Lou’s unintentional word vomit was anything to go by. But this required concentration and he wasn’t going to get that with Louis saying all the things he wanted to hear for months now. “Gonna have to shut you up.” Lou’s eyes widened with Harry’s words and even more so as Harry brought up the little ball of underwear he’d just taken off Louis’ body. “I’ll make it so good for you, Lou, so good. Open wide now.”

Harry moved his fingers away as Lou opened his mouth, his breathing loud in the charged air that surrounded them. Harry could barely focus on anything apart from the blood pounding through his veins, the constant thrum it left in his ears.

Louis nodded slightly, and Harry could feel the heat of Lou’s breath against his fingertips as he pulled the now sodden ball of material from Lou’s mouth. He dropped it on the bed. As he went to shift them off, Lou’s hand was on his wrist, stilling them for a moment, dark eyes catching Harry’s own as Louis slowly opened his mouth, sucking Harry’s fingers in.


End file.
